Fear and Obey
by Miss Penington
Summary: Belle makes a deal with a different sorcerer to come caretake at his castle. There she meets Rumplestiltskin, who has been a prisoner for a long time.
1. Chapter 1

Ogres were not men. They pillaged and plundered and took whatever they wanted. Several kingdom's worth of armies could not stop them. Neither could Avon's walls.

The attack had been unexpected. Surprising, given the ogres' size and lack of stealth. As it was, Belle found herself running down a hall in a horribly inappropriate ball gown as the castle shook.

Gaston, sword in hand, strode around the corner in front of her. "Belle." His features darkened as she skidded to a stop in front of him. "Why are you still here?"

Panting, Belle waved a shaking hand at the hall behind her. "I couldn't find my father, and then the back gate was blocked, and-"

Gaston cut her off as he grabbed a hold of her arm and began to march her back the way she had come. "I have to hide you somewhere until I can defeat this menace. You are not to move until I return for you." He came to a storage closet at the end of the hall and pushed her inside of it.

"But what about my father?" The door shut in her face, and she heard the click of the lock. "You can't just leave me here!" She pounded on the door with a fist before subsiding as she heard his booted feet running away.

While hailed as the bravest knight of the surrounding kingdoms, Gaston was not known for his brains. If the shaking of walls were anything to judge by, the ogres were plowing their way right through the castle. Belle cast a glance up at the ceiling. She could be crushed by falling stone should the castle begin to collapse.

Wheeling around, she began to dig through a trunk in hope of finding some way of getting the door open. At the very least, she could find a more secure place to take cover in case the ceiling fell. Of her father and friends, she did not allow herself to think. She could panic about them once the battle was over, and she had managed to survive.

She was in a small room that they used to store items for religious ceremonies. She might have used the ornate candle sticks to pry the door open, but most metals had been sold or melted down for armor.

She was halfway climbing into the empty trunk and preparing to shut the lid for some manner of protection, when the door to the room flew open with a bang, half of it disintegrating on impact. Belle fell over onto her side as green fog poured over the floor.

At the source of the fog stood a figure. He was taller than even Gaston, his stature given its towering appearance by the long black cloak that he wore. He had an almost skeletal face with a thin mustache over his nearly nonexistent mouth.

He raised his hands outward so that the long sleeves of his robe trailed downward and intoned, "I am the all powerful sorcerer, Jafar. Where is King Maurice?"

Belle, realizing that that her legs were hanging outside the trunk, managed to cease her gaping and scrambled to her feet. "We called for you weeks ago! Why didn't you come sooner?"

"Who are you that you dare to question me?" His voice had an oily quality. She knew of no other way to describe it. His accent, too, was unfamiliar.

Belle managed to draw herself up under his unblinking gaze. "I am a member of the royal family, and I need you to help us."

He merely scoffed. "You are clearly an idiot if you have not fled with the remainder of the royal family." He nodded at her ball gown. "If you thought to use your position as princess and the remainder of your dwindling wealth to make a bargain, you will be disappointed. That will not work with ogres; they have no reason."

Belle opened her mouth to defend her pride but then shut it again. Time to call upon the endless hours of protocol lessons. "Will it work with you, sir?"

"If you are willing to make a deal, I can save your little village."

"What do you want?"

"Fortunately for you, I am in need of a cleaning girl for my palace. If you indenture yourself to me, I will stop the ogres."

Belle stared at the floor for a moment. Every instinct she had warned her away from the sorcerer. She had no guarantees that her duties would be more than _cleaning._ However, her home was already crumbling, and she had to save what remained of her people. Do the brave thing, and bravery will follow.

"I will go with you," She agreed, still not daring to approach him. When he began to grab her by the arm, she pulled back. "Wait, can I make sure my family is still alive first?"

"More than likely they are already dead." And with that, he jerked her forward into a cloud of green fog.

-X-

As soon as her feet hit solid ground, Belle doubled over, coughing violently to get the foul smoke out her lungs. It was several moments before she began to take in her surroundings. At first, she did not even know that she was in a castle. The flagstones usually held the chill in the air no matter the season. Yet despite the stone walls and floor, it was very warm, and it felt slightly difficult to draw each breath.

Jafar had moved to stand across the hallway where he could better scowl down at her. "If you are finished gasping, I have to show you your duties." He started down the hall without a glance to see if she was following.

Stumbling over the hem of her gown, Belle started after him. The hallway was much narrower than even the servants' quarters at her home, and she had to turn sideways to avoid catching her dress on the walls. Oddly enough, there were no windows that she could see. Their path was lit by candles in sconces.

After a series of twists and turns that had her thoroughly lost, they arrived at a pair of doors many hands higher than the both of them. Jafar pulled the left door open and swept through so that Belle had to shove it open hurriedly before it caught her gown.

"My workroom . . . and yours now," Jafar intoned, moving to stand beside a table.

Belle followed him, staring about the large room with wonder. It was hexagonal in shape with large bookcases against three of the walls. A table larger than the one in the banquet hall stood in the center of the room. It was littered with dusty books, bottles, and candles in various states of melting.

Belle's eyes perused the bookshelves eagerly for several minutes before Jafar noticed her staring. "There are three things in this room that you are forbidden to touch. Do not touch the books, but you will dust the shelves. Do not touch my work table. And the cage."

Belle looked over to her new master to see him gesturing to the side of the room that she had not yet examined. There sat a large, rusting cage. Pressed up against the bars, features twisted into a rictus grimace was a creature, the likes of which she had never seen before.

Belle immediately dropped her eyes to the floor as his tattered tunic revealed far more of the male figure than she was used to seeing. In a moment, she managed to find her voice. "Wh-what's wrong with him?"

Jafar frowned down at her. "It is not a him; it is a demon. The Dark One. And I would advise you not to go anywhere near his cage. Do you want to know what he was doing when I caught him?"

Despite herself, Belle nodded. Curiosity had always been her weakness.

"He was skinning children."

Belle felt her throat constrict at the mental image he conjured. "What if he gets out?" she murmured, still staring at the floor.

"No need to worry about that. I control every move he makes. He cannot even take a breath without my permission."

More questions came to mind, the first and foremost being just how said control was exerted. She had read a few stories about demons, and she could not see any sign of a magical circle or blood sigils anywhere. At any rate, she vowed to herself that she would stay far away from the cage.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: Thanks to everyone for the kind reviews. Here comes the chapter everyone hates to write but loves to read.**

-X-

Dawn the next day found Belle back at the workroom, now dressed in clothing more suitable to her station, as Jafar had put it. She felt as if she hadn't slept for more than a few hours. She had entered the tiny room given for her use, laid down on the cot inside, and had a long cry.

But here she stood the next morning with fresh determination. She would choose her own fate, she thought fiercely. She would see her father again. And in the meantime, she would fulfill her end of the bargain.

With that thought in mind, she entered the workroom. She resolutely avoided looking at the cage only to find herself staring at the demon, lying on a small table at the opposite side of the room. It was curled on his side with its arms lying loosely in front of its chest. Although she could see no bonds of any kind, its form was so still that for a moment, she thought that it was dead. Only the faint rise and fall of its chest gave sign of its life.

"Ahem."

Belle started at the faint cough. In her staring at the creature, she had missed the heavyset man standing behind the table. She grimaced at the stained pair of pliers in his hands before bobbing into a curtsy.

"Call me Lord Master Iago." His eyes trailed down to her chest, and Belle immediately crossed her arms, scowling at him. Jafar, with all his haughtiness, had not asked for any special title. She was not about to bow to this balding man who had not even saved her home. "Start cleaning."

When he gave no further instructions, Belle picked up a rag from the bucket beside the door and walked over to the small table. "What are you doing?"

Iago leered at her, brandishing the pliers. "Pulling scales. They're saturated with magic. Much easier to go to the source."

"Scales? It looks like skin to me." Belle resisted the urge to lean closer to the Dark One and its yellow grayish skin. She was also uncomfortably aware that it was still dressed only in ragged trousers.

Quicker than a man his size should have been able to move, Iago grabbed her hand and forced it onto the demon's emaciated chest. Ignoring her attempts to yank her hand back, Iago grinned at her. "Feel."

Despite herself, Belle could feel the scales against her fingertips. They were rough in texture and about the size of her fingernails along its chest before growing larger and softer on its stomach, which rose and fell rapidly beneath her hand. The texture reminded her very much of a snake's scales.

She followed the patterns of color with her gaze until she reached the demon's face. And it's eyes. She could see the humiliation in them for a moment before they became murderous. She had often read about seeing emotions in the eyes but had never believed it until that moment.

Ashamed of herself, Belle yanked her hand free of Iago's clammy grip. He leered at her for a moment in challenge before returning his attention to the demon's back.

Belle moved to the side of the table to get out of the demon's penetrating gaze and avoid standing too close to Iago. She managed to get a good look at his work. Dark trails of blood ran down the Dark One's back and onto the table. It was difficult to see if there were any scales even left.

Before Iago could apply the pliers again, Belle hurried to ask, "How do you keep him on the table?"

"Commands. But the bloody creature can find the loophole in anything Jafar says." Iago punctuated this statement with a jab of his pliers, and the table creaked as the demon's muscles tightened. "It takes us days to write up an order so that there's no way he can weasel out of it. So we only have two set commands: get in the cage or stay on the table."

He placed his pliers against the creature's shoulder blade. Without thought, Belle darted forward to shove his arm out of the way. "Stop it! It's hurting him!"

Iago grabbed her arm with bone crushing force and pulled her against his body. "I could hurt _you_." He brought his mouth towards hers, and Belle clawed at his face with her free hand.

With a curse, Iago tossed her away from him. Belle hit the floor and began to scramble backwards as he started towards her.

"Iago." Both Belle and her attacker froze at the sound of Jafar's voice. "I believe you were in the middle of something before you started gabbing."

Bowing and scraping, Iago stumbled back to the table.

Jafar's cold gaze turned on her. Belle snatched up her fallen rag and hurried over to the opposite side of the room to begin scrubbing the floor. She kept her gaze riveted on the flagstones long after Jafar left the workroom. The grime began to blur as her eyes welled up, and she grit her teeth to ignore the sound of the creaking table from across the room.

-X-

"You are an idiot, you are an idiot, you are _such _an idiot," Belle muttered to herself as she hurried down the hallway. It was nearly three in the morning by her calculation, and although Jafar hadn't given her specific work hours, he had implied that she should be back in her room until breakfast.

Hopefully she wouldn't meet anyone on her way to the workroom. The two elderly women working in the kitchen were the only other servants she had met, but that didn't mean that Jafar didn't employ more. As for the man himself or his odious assistant, she trusted her lying abilities enough to believe that she could talk her way out of any trouble.

When she reached the workroom door, she dropped to her stomach and peered underneath. The room was dark, and she could hear no movement.

She pushed the door open an inch and looked inside. The room was empty, save for the Dark One who was still lying on the table. Reminding herself that he was paralyzed, she stepped into the room.

She approached the table with caution, making sure to stay within his line of sight. The demon's eyes were open but unfocused, and fine tremors ran through his body.

She had scrubbed out her bucket and refilled it with water from the kitchen earlier the previous day. If anyone had asked, she had planned to say that she was saving herself time the next morning. However, the kitchen women never spoke to her, no matter her attempts to get more information. And neither Iago or Jafar had noticed.

Now she dipped a clean rag into the water and walked up to the table. Every horrible story she had ever read about demons ran through her mind. And at any moment she expected Jafar's voice from behind her, demanding to know what she was doing. Her hand shook as she raised the rag above the Dark One's mouth. Tremulously, she squeezed the rag until the water dripped onto the demon's lips.

For a moment he did not move, then his eyes came back into focus. A range of emotions passed through them: anger, humiliation, confusion. His lips moved slightly.

"That's better, isn't it?" Belle whispered. She half considered trying to use the bucket but did not want to drown him. She peered over the table and hissed at the bloody rags covering his back. She didn't dare to reach over his body to lift one of them, despite her curiosity.

She returned to drip more water into his mouth twice more before she noticed the grime on the window beginning to look a little lighter. She needed to get back to her room.

"I'll bring some bread crusts next time," she promised, dropping the rag back into the bucket. She had thought his emaciated appearance rather normal for a demon, but now she wasn't so sure.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Glad to hear no one was scarred for life by the last chapter. And on we go...**

****-X-

Having life eternal and health were two entirely different things. Rumplestiltskin hadn't known so much about himself in the early days of his captivity. Neither had Jafar. It hadn't taken him long to figure out that while starving his prisoner and having him test potions could not kill him, it could make him so weak as to be incapable of moving, let alone using magic.

He would not allow Rumplestiltskin to become too strong though, no matter the benefit to his magic. He had once put Rumplestiltskin to sleep for a long time as to keep him out of the way but had afterwards discovered that the coma had made his magic weak and lethargic. And in the end, complete safety was not nearly as important as the magic.

Jafar had proved to be clever though. Rumplestiltskin had inherited scattered memories from the previous Dark Ones and so knew that the usual tasks of captivity involved treasure hunts and violent revenge plots. Within a few hours, each Dark One in question had managed to slaughter his new master.

Not so with Jafar.

There had been a few near misses within the first week. At one point, Rumplestiltskin had come so close to breaking Jafar's neck. He had only been ordered not to kill his new master after all, permanently maiming or disfiguring had not been mentioned. The thought of that moment fueled him now. The feel of the sinewy neck beneath his claws. The terror in his so-called master's eyes as he gabbled out commands.

That was the tricky thing about owning the Dark One's dagger. No assumptions could be made. In the first few days of his captivity, Rumplestiltskin had used semantics and presumptions to his full advantage. Unfortunately, Jafar was a quick learner. He only ever commanded his creature to get in the cage or stay on the table now. Each command was written out on twelve feet of parchment, and each took half an hour to read aloud.

Of course, each order came with hundreds of other side commands. No harming his master or allowing his master to come to harm by order of the man who had possession of the Dark One's dagger. The Dark One being named Rumplestiltskin as was inscribed on the dagger. Harming being defined as any means, physical or magical or otherwise, to either harm or end the life of the Jafar and Iago. Jafar being defined as...

And that was the true burden of owning the Dark One. A man had to truly know himself, had to say aloud the things that absolutely defined him, in order to issue commands. Few men could bear to know themselves so deeply.

Which was why, by the Dark One's guess, Jafar kept only a specific set of ground rules. In simplest terms, Rumplestiltskin could not use his magic. Could not speak to anyone except Jafar, and only then when spoken to first. Could not damage any of Jafar's possessions. Could only move around in the cage.

Rumplestiltskin had wondered why they even bothered to keep him, except for the fear that he would disembowel them both once he was free. Then they had discovered a way around the conduit and straight to the source of the magic. His scales could be used as components to spells. His blood could be used for potions.

Suddenly, his captor had become something far more dangerous than a man craving power. He had become something worth hatred.

Now when he was on the table, shaking from blood loss or the pull of the pliers, he would bring pictures into his mind with all the seething revulsion contained in his still form. He would use the pliers on the fat one. Pull every one of his organs out, one by one. Jafar he would rend limb from limb. Tear off his skin and scream with laughter as he slowly died.

And so was his existence for nearly ten years.

Then one day, a centipede had fallen off the ceiling and into a half made potion on the table. The resulting explosion had disintegrated the books and wrecked every potion on the table, much to Rumplestiltskin's glee.

He had been hoping to see Iago down on his bloated knees, scrubbing the floor. Instead Jafar had returned from one of his deal making sessions with a chit of a girl. The way she had looked at him made him want to twist her neck. When she had touched him, he found a new fantasy to appease his bloodlust that day.

The fact that she had cared about his pain had barely registered. She had seen his humiliation, and that was enough to condemn her. His pride he hung onto with his claws. That and the dogged belief that he would escape one day. If he didn't hold onto those, he would lose the dredges of his sanity.

But the girl - Belle, he remembered - had returned that night. It was only then that he remembered that she hadn't called him "it." Jafar and Iago had started calling him that just before they began to jab and cut him.

Her actions confused him, something that he could little afford in his small, controlled world. He needed to figure out her motivations.

Just as they had so many times over the years, another plan began to form in his mind. He had long since given up trying to manipulate Iago, the man was such a toffee nose. He had even had aspirations of bending Jafar to his will. However, the girl might be useful somewhere along the line.

Still attempting to get his atrophied throat to swallow the water, Rumplestiltskin mentally grinned. He would have to see where this new development led.

-X-

"And then he just admits that he was insane. That he shouldn't have read all those romances. Can you imagine it? All those adventures, jousting at windmills and the search for Dulcinea, all a waste of time." Belle leaned farther onto the counter, watching the two kitchen maids.

She had spent most of the morning retelling her favorite stories from _Don Quixote_, all the while surreptitiously slipping bread crusts into her apron pocket. The two women hadn't glanced at her once. They hadn't even spoken to her, which to Belle was almost a sign of encouragement after her tutors' repeated entreaties that ladies should be seen and not heard. Even Gaston abruptly changed the subject after one or two minutes discussion of even the most exciting tales.

She had only managed to grab two pieces of bread around the kitchen maids' movements, but she didn't want her pocket to start bulging noticeably. So Belle started to wrap up her babbling, "I think it would be worth it though. To be a hero in a story. Well, I've got to get back to my bucket and the floor. See you at supper."

Belle flounced out of the kitchen, slowing to a more sedate pace once in the hall. She had put some thought into how she should act in her new position. Her experience with Iago had already taught her that her new home was dangerous. It would be best if she were underestimated.

So she had spent the night, between moments of going over her moments with the Dark One again and again, picturing the most frivolous maid in her father's employ. Her name was Babette, and she had a penchant for flirting with anything that moved and some things that didn't. Belle was planning to use the ditzy side of her personality more than the flirtatious one and even then not to a very noticeable degree. Jafar most likely wouldn't have any problems with having her beaten if she annoyed him, and Iago certainly didn't need any encouragement. But she was determined to act more like a maid.

She peered around the door to the workroom, pleased when she saw that it was empty of both sorcerer and assistant. The Dark One was just inside the bars of his cage, still lying on his side. His eyes were closed.

Belle hurried over, reaching into her pocket. She extended a cautious hand through the bars, high enough to be out of his range should he try to grab for her. When her hand was directly above his, she dropped the crust so that it landed between his claws. She bit her lip at the thought that he might still be paralyzed. It would be difficult to explain the sudden appearance of bread, but she did not relish reaching in to get the crust back. But his hand closed, although his eyes did not open.

Smiling to herself, Belle pulled away from the cage and over to the grime covered window. She would work on getting at least one pane clean. She was desperate to see sunlight again. Some sunlight it must be too, for the castle was absolutely stifling. Except for the workroom which was kept somewhat chilled.

"We're leaving."

Belle started as Iago stormed into the room, shoving books and stoppered vials into a traveling bag.

"We're going somewhere?"

Iago snorted. "As if Jafar would want to take you anywhere. I meant me and him. And I expect this place to be spotless when we get back."

An idea lit in Belle's mind. "How soon will you be back?"

"Two -"

"Iago!" Jafar's voice snapped. "I have warned you about parroting my plans to others."

Iago went pale. "So, so sorry, Jafar. It won't happen again."

"It had better not." Jafar's oily gaze turned to Belle. "Do I need to repeat my orders about the things you are not allowed to touch?"

Belle kept her eyes on the floor. "No, sir."

Jafar nodded toward the cage anyway. "It killed the last servant girl I had in here. It tore out her throat with its claws. I will not be here to help should you foolishly wanderer into its grasp."

Belle nodded, frantically wondering if he had seen her last night with the water or ten minutes before with the crust. At any rate, it did not appear as if he were going to punish her. Not yet.

Looking pleased, Jafar turned to Iago. "Have you packed my bag?"

"No, not yet, Jafar. I was going to right after I finished here-"

"Then hurry up!" Jafar swept from the room, cloak flung out behind him.

Iago glared at her as if the whole encounter was her fault. Stuffing a few small small containers into the bag, he scrambled after Jafar.

Belle was left standing in the sudden stillness of the workroom.

She cast a glance over at the cage. His hand was open and the crust was gone. She hadn't even seen him move.

Of course, a few crusts of bread weren't going to help him much. And now she was too scared to go near him. Not because she was worried that he would attack her, but because Jafar might somehow see her. Hadn't Merlin used a dish of water to spy?

Thoughts preoccupied, Belle only noticed that her rag had cleared away a spot of grime from the window when an orange glow began to shine through her thumb and pointer finger. Perplexed, she pulled her hand back and peered through the hole that she had made.

She gasped. A vast array of sandy hills touched the horizon. There were no plants in the little area that she could see, nothing to break the soft yellow of the landscape. The sky shone orange as the sun, larger than she had ever seen it, sunk beneath the hills. It shocked her to discover that it was actually sunset rather than sunrise. Why in the world would Jafar have his household work through the night and sleep through the day?

Whirling around, she gestured at the Dark One. "What sort of strange land is this? Where are we?"

The Dark One only blinked at her laconically. The beam of dying light from the window now shone into the top of his cage.

Frowning at him, Belle turned back to the window and began scrubbing. She had missed the sunlight, and she wanted to see more of this fantastic place.

As she worked, she went over her conversation with Iago. They could be gone anywhere from two days to two months. And that didn't discount them returning early or late.

It would be wiser to stay with her chores.

Yet as she had been reminded daily when she was a girl, curiosity would ever be her downfall. And she wanted to know more about the Dark One.

Maybe she could even find a way to free him, she thought a little wildly. It was wrong to keep anyone locked up, even if he was a demon.

Jafar had said that he slaughtered children. She didn't doubt that he'd done horrible things.

But his eyes. . .

Rinsing the cloth in the bucket, Belle sighed to herself. Well, maybe she couldn't free him. Not yet. But there was no harm in finding out some more information about him.

-X-

She scrubbed out one window pane before she judged it long enough for Jafar and Iago to have left. The she lost her nerve and spent an extra twenty minutes cleaning the rags.

She found a quill and a blank scrap of parchment on the worktable. Already having forgotten her resolve to stay away from the cage, she approached the bars and slid both between them.

The Dark One had earlier moved to sit against near the wall. His movements had been sluggish and clumsy, although she wouldn't have put it past him to be acting.

She darted back as soon as the parchment and quill left her hand. "Why must you obey Jafar?"

The Dark One scowled at her but made no move towards the paper.

"Did you not like that question? Oh! Is it because I'm being rude?" She curtsied. "I'm Belle."

She didn't ask for his name. Demons didn't like telling people their names from what she had read. "Now then. How long have you been a prisoner?"

His scowl only became more pronounced.

Then it dawned on her. "Oh. You're not allowed to write to me, are you?"

That got her a dry look.

"Can you nod?"

Now a look of outright enmity.

Belle sighed. "Alright. I shall have to think some more."

The Dark One's expression said that her ability to accomplish even that was somewhat dubious. She ignored him.

After a moment of pacing, she turned back to him. "What about blinking? You know, once for 'yes,' twice for 'no?'"

An erie grin stretched across his features. He blinked once. _Yes. _

Belle resisted the urge to cheer. Now she was faced with the problem of coming up with yes or no questions.

First things first. "Does your back still hurt?"

That got her an incredulous look. _No. _

"Are you sure? I could bring you some wet cloths?"

He glared at her. _No. _

She wanted to ask him if he had really skinned those children or killed the previous maid, but she had no guarantees that he wouldn't lie to her.

"Do they take your scales just to punish you?"

He gave her a look of pure enmity, then blinked twice.

He was growing impatient, but she wouldn't ask him about his freedom until she was sure that she wanted to.

She grinned at him. "Would you like some supper?"

Snarling at her, he turned around to face the wall. Clearly the conversation was over.

Belle huffed at him. Fine, if he didn't want to talk, then they wouldn't talk.

She still left a goblet of water and a slice of bread and cheese inside his cage though.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Sorry about the late updates and the silence in general. The reviews were lovely.**

Rumplestiltskin paced his cage in a fury. The girl made him want to shred the scales from his back himself. Asking such infernal questions about wet cloths and supper when he was closer to getting out that ever before.

He would kill her once he was able. The next time she stood before his cage, he would snap her neck in a manner very similar to how Jafar claimed he had killed the previous maid. It was the line about the children that made him truly angry. That was _his _joke.

His legs gave out, unused to the strain of moving. He collapsed onto his hands and knees. He groaned as his stomach ached at the sudden movement. Even the little bit of food that maid had left was more than he had eaten in a month.

He could not abandon his hopes for the girl. She was obviously quite stupid, but perhaps in time, he would be able to make something of her. He had done it before with far less promising subjects.

As if on cue to his thoughts, lurid purple smoke began to fill the room. The Queen approacheth.

Forcing his face into a rictus grin, Rumplestiltskin pulled himself back to his feet and lounged against the bars. No matter what else was happening, he had a part to play.

He covertly cleared his throat as he waited for the smoke to clear. He hadn't spoken in several months, so he was unlikely to have the same vocal range as usual. He was grateful that Jafar didn't know of his association with the Queen. While he was forbidden from speaking to Belle and Iago, Jafar had never specifically said that he couldn't converse with Regina.

With all the flair for the theatrical that he expected, Regina came striding out of the fog. Her superior smirk was in place as she came to stand in front of his cage. "I must say that your surroundings please me. It's about time that someone put the beast in a cage."

Wagging a finger, he grinned down at her. "Now, now, now, is that the why to ask nicely for something you want?"

Regina played up a bored perusal of Jafar's worktable. "Who says I wanted anything? I just wanted to witness your humiliation."

Gripping the bars with both hands, he bared his teeth at her. He had grown tired of word games years ago. "What. Do. You. Want?"

"Your master cursed me so that I cannot harm that girl and her imbecilic husband."

Rumplestiltskin's ears perked at that. It seemed that Jafar's penchant for deal making was finally working in his favor. "I'm afraid there is no way around that specific spell . . . In this world."

Now it was the Queen's turn to look interested. "In _this _world?"

"I suggest you go to my Dark Castle, dearie. You'll find exactly what you need sitting on my worktable."

She listened eagerly as he instructed her. So eagerly that she did not notice that he did not ask for something in return. And then, in another flash of purple smoke, she left.

He sank to the floor, unable to quell his unhinged chuckles. It was so, so unexpected. After all these years of stagnation... His chuckles turned to raucous laughter, horrible even to his own ears. He was still so scared. After everything, after they had stripped his dignity and humanity, he was afraid. He couldn't believe it!

He could have asked her for his freedom as part of the deal. But to ask that would reveal his weakness, and the thought of being under Regina's control was even more odious than Jafar's. He could make her do what he wanted from this cage.

When his laughter subsided and he lay in an exhausted heap on the floor of his cell, his desire to be free hit him with even more force. He did not know where he would end up on the other side if he was still in captivity when the spell hit.

His talk with Regina had given him an idea. He would have a chat with the little maid.

-X-

He waited until just before Belle was due to start work before standing up against the bars. His legs still shook badly, and he locked his knees to stay upright. The risk of collapse would be worth it. The appearance of power would make all the difference.

When the maid entered the room, he smiled at her in attempt to look inviting. Judging by her faltering steps, he didn't succeed.

"We need to have a talk, dearie." Regina, he said in his mind. The words came out strangled as his throat tried to cut them off. Gritting his teeth, he forced the mental image of Regina over Belle's form.

She stared at him. "How are you talking?"

_Well Regina_ ... "I can do whatever I wish. Jafar's control is merely an illusion."

Belle raised an eyebrow. "So, Iago pulling scales out of your back, that was your wish?"

"I don't have to explain -" His words cut off into a bought of choked coughing. He needed to maintain control, or this conversation would never happen. "Listen," _Regina_, "The blinking thing wasn't really getting my point," he pointed a claw in her direction. "Across."

"I already know what you want." When he cocked his head at her, she continued, "You want your freedom."

His grin stretched across his face. It actually hurt, he was so pleased. "How very clever of you, dearie. Now then, you should start asking about just how you can make that happen. You will be richly rewarded, of course." His features froze up; he hadn't been talking to Regina there.

Belle's eyes softened. "I'm sorry, but I can't let you go."

He went still. "And why not?"

"Because you're a demon. I've read the stories. When you do escape, you'll not only kill Jafar but me as well. Then you'll go back t-to killing children."

The injustice of her statement made him bare his teeth. "And is leaving me here to be tortured fair?"

"No, and I'll do anything I can to make them stop hurting you. But I cannot free you."

The rage inside him broke loose. Throwing himself against the bars, he stared into the blue of her eyes. "You will obey me, or I will slaughter you! I will rip the skin from -" His speech strangled in his throat as he lost control.

His distraction freed Belle from the power of his gaze. With a horrified look at his retching form, she fled the room.

Still gagging, he threw himself at the bars again. He clawed at them, hurled the goblet at the floor with all of his force.

The gagging soon turned into breathless sobbing, and he collapsed. He had ruined it. His first chance in years, and as usual, he had destroyed everything. A memory from his old life, long buried, came floating to the front of his mind. He allowed himself to see his boy's face just for a moment before savagely forcing the image back.

He would escape, he thought as unconsciousness came to claim him. He promised.

-X-

Rumplestiltskin opened swollen eyes to see Jafar looming outside the bars of his cage. He was holding up the goblet by a thumb and forefinger, shaking with anger and triumph. The Dark One merely raised an eyebrow at his master. Besides putting one more compulsion on him, there wasn't much more that Jafar would do to him.

"Just how did this get into your cage?"

Pushing himself up until he was sitting cross legged, Rumplestiltskin grinned. "That little servant girl is ever so compassionate to poor, abused creatures." That would teach her to disobey him.

At any rate, there was no way out of it. He couldn't reveal Regina, not at this delicate stage of planning. And it wasn't as if Jafar would believe him anyway. Jafar didn't believe in Truth with a capital "t," therefore Rumplestiltskin didn't have to speak the truth to him.

Jafar's gaze was unwavering in its expression. "Then we will have to show her the error of her ways." He pulled a roll of parchment from the inside of his robes.

Now Rumplestiltskin felt a glimmer of unease. Apparently, Jafar had known about the girl's interest in him before his little trip or else he would not have had time to write out a new command. He grit his teeth at the thought that Jafar might know about Regina's visit as well.

With a snap of his hand, his master unfurled the scroll and began to read. "I, Jafar, order the Dark One, Rumplestiltskin, to attack Belle, the servant girl, the next time she approaches the cage."

Jafar continued reading, clarifying the time parameters of the attack and just how badly he was to hurt the girl. The Dark One listened for any mention of the Queen.

"-Belle being defined as Princess Belle of the Marshlands, indentured to myself in return for services rendered to stop the Fifth Ogre War -"

That got his attention. It figured she would be a princess. There were hoards of them scattered throughout the Enchanted Forest.

And the _Fifth _Ogre War? He hadn't known that there had been a third one, but that was hardly surprising, given his situation.

He did wonder about the exact terms of Jafar's deal. The girl pretended to be such a bleeding heart, but not enough to actually do anything about it. No doubt she had wanted the war over to save her dresses or to have more balls.

Ten minutes of clauses later, and Jafar took a deep breath speaking the final words. "-So say I, Jafar, coward, to Rumplestiltskin, coward." The defining was said with utter conviction and loathing, and master and slave stared eye to eye.

That was what they were at their very cores. The similarity that ensured that Rumplestiltskin would never escape Jafar's thrall. Deep inside they both needed power, needed it desperately to hide how terrified they were. Jafar had recognized the cowardice within the Dark One when he had first captured the dagger and so was able to control him.

In the stillness after the command, Rumplestiltskin felt the order settle fully into his scales. He would lie in wait and attack the girl and slice her skin with his claws.

And he then realized what Jafar must have known. He didn't want to hurt her.

-X-

Belle avoided the workroom the next day, instead opting to scrub the flagstones just outside the door. It was cowardly of her to do so, but she didn't want the demon to look at her. She had spent the night feeling terribly guilty. It wasn't right for any creature to suffer, demon or not. However, his tantrum had only proved that he could not be trusted with his freedom.

Well, her emotional side had argued, it was hardly his fault if he had a violent streak. Captivity would make any creature savage. And it could be that such behavior was in his nature. He was a demon after all. And that had led her right back to the original doing evil if he were free argument.

All told, it had not been a restful night.

On the morning of the third day, she had been polishing the door's oddly shaped handle when a terrifying thought occurred to her. The goblet! It was sitting in the cage for all sorcerers and their odious assistants to see.

Belle entered the workroom with cautious haste. She had neither seen nor heard from Jafar, but that didn't mean he hadn't returned.

It appeared luck was with her, for the room was empty. The Dark One lay on his side in the middle of his cage, facing the back wall. The goblet sat just within the bars near the side.

A quick perusal of the room didn't show her anything long enough to reach the cup from a distance. Her employer hadn't given her a broom, and experience told her that the kitchen women would be less than accommodating to a request for a mop.

The demon appeared to be asleep though. If she were fast, she could be in and out before he noticed.

Belle crept toward the cage, grateful for the pointed slippers and flowing trousers that Jafar had ordered her to wear. Her huge gowns and delicate heels made sneaking much more difficult back in her own castle.

She reached the bars and snuck a hand through; her fingers wrapped around the silver handle.

With inhuman speed, the Dark One struck out at her, pulling her against the bars. She hadn't even seen him get off the floor. For less than a second, he stared at her, rictus grin pulled taut across his face, and Belle was too frightened to even struggle. Rabbits and mice doubtless felt the same as the snake coiled itself around them.

Then he tightened his grip, his talons slicing through the flesh of her arms. Belle screamed and jerked backwards, and he immediately let her go.

Belle fell over and began to struggle backwards. She could not take her eyes off the demon in terror that it would somehow manage to come after her. It was leaning its full length upon the bars, that horrible smile still on its face.

Only when her arm hit the smaller table did she scramble to her feet. She fled the room.

By the time she had made it to the kitchen, she had started crying. She sat against the water pump and wrapped her arms around herself, uncaring if the blood stained her clothing. Three gouges ran down the back of her upper arms along with a shallower one on the front from its thumb.

Her crying was reaching the breath hitching stage when a train of cloth was dropped into her lap. Belle gave the elder of the two kitchen maids a watery smile. "Thank you."

The woman nodded at her and then returned to the dishes she had been washing.

Having a task to do helped clear away the lingering panic. Tearing of a length of the cloth, Belle wet it with the pump and set about wiping off the blood. She had seen plenty of injuries during the Ogre War, and she was grateful that she did not faint at the sight of blood. The wound bled less than she thought it would, and she awkwardly wrapped the remaining cloth around each of her upper arms, tying it off with the use of her teeth.

The blood loss combined with the lack of sleep the night previous made her sway when she rose back to her feet. She would get no more cleaning done today, and at any rate, nothing would induce her to return to that room.

She went to her small chamber and lay in the cot given for her use. The stifling heat for once was soothing to her shocked nerves. Her arms ached sharply, and she bit her lip as she waited for the pain to ebb.

It was stupid of her to be surprised. It was a demon, not a puzzle to ease the monotony of her servitude. She had been stupid not to stay away from it.

She brought a hand up to her throat. That poor maid...

Unbidden, an image came to her mind. The demon's smile had been cruel and delighted. Its eyes had looked lost.

She didn't want to think about it right now. Curling farther into herself, Belle concentrated only on the sound of her shaky breathing.


	5. Chapter 5

Jafar was waiting for her when she left her room the next morning. He gave her bandages a condescending smile. "Didn't obey my orders, I see."

Belle turned her eyes to the floor. "No, sir. I'm sorry."

"Yes, now you are. Consider this a warning against further disobedience."

"Yes, sir," she whispered. "Can I work in another room today?"

"Of course not. The only reason I keep you is to clean my workroom." He pointed towards the door. "Now get back to scrubbing the floor."

Belle did as she was told. The order to scrub the floor was intentionally chosen, she was sure. The motions of her arms pulled at her bandages and made the wounds sting. By the time lunch arrived, Belle was back in the kitchen, rewrapping the again bleeding wounds.

Jafar stayed in the workroom all day, watching imperiously as Iago sanded down a long bronze pole. Despite herself, Belle watched their movements out of the corner of her eye. She found it mesmerizing to watch the rough metal become smooth and shiny. The entertainment was a long way off from the novels she used to read, but she had little else to do with her time now.

The days passed slowly as Belle scoured the edges of the room with water and lye. Jafar had moved on to mixing vials of liquid with the scales and chanting over them. The hissed words sent shivers up her spine, but the colors produced were often lovely. Once the sun had set just after breakfast, the room began to glow in evervescent tones of blue, green, and red.

He did not take the Dark One out of its cage. Belle could only be grateful. Vicious or not, it did not deserve to be hurt. And just as she had promised, Belle would do everything she could to stop its suffering.

Despite the monotony of her days, one problem still remained like a grain of sand in her eye: Iago. The man stared at her constantly when Jafar had his back turned. At first it had only been a leer focused on her chest and backside. And while that had been uncomfortable, she anxiously ignored him as his gaze turned more calculating.

She tried to time her trips to the kitchen for more water so that she was never in the room alone with him. Her efforts were successful only a handful of times before he caught her.

Jafar had been growing increasingly short tempered each day as whatever he was trying to do with the glowing jars failed. Then one afternoon the water in each jar turned black. Cursing vilely, Jafar shoved the lot off the table where it shattered over the flagstones.

Belle jumped when Jafar suddenly snarled at her, "Clean that up!"

He then stormed from the room, ignoring Iago's "Maybe we should have tried the diamond powder?"

Belle, noticing that she was alone in the room with him, hurried for the door as well. Iago darted in front of her. "Didn't Jafar just order you to clean up the mess?"

"I was just going to get some more water."

Iago stepped forward, making her take a step back. "It makes me sick how you suck up to him. Always following him around. You're not powerful enough to interest him."

Belle's eyes widened. "And you . . . are?"

He blanched. "No, of course, not! You're missing my point." His hand gestured towards her body. "Jafar will never want you, but I can offer you power."

Where he had gotten the idea that she was infatuated with Jafar she didn't know, and she didn't want to know just what he meant by power.

Iago seemed all too happy to enlighten her. "Come to my chambers tonight. And then, when Jafar becomes the royal vizier in Agrabah, you will live in luxury again."

For a moment, she felt sorry for him. However, any man who would coerce favors from a woman infuriated her.

Knowing what this decision might bring her, Belle gave him a slight smile. "Thank you for your offer, but I'm afraid I can't accept it. I can take care of myself."

Iago stared at her, obviously not having expected to be turned down. "Do you want another enemy?"

Belle shook her head. "I won't. Never."

He stalked forward. "I could take everything you have anyway. You wouldn't be able to stop me."

"You wouldn't dare." She searched for some threat. "Jafar wouldn't be pleased."

"As long as you're still able to clean, Jafar won't care what happens to you." He grabbed for her, and she darted back, putting the table between him. Throwing an empty bottle at his head, she ran around to the other end.

The bottle missed him as he thrust himself onto the table. Belle shied back at the sudden movement, her feet skidding on the broken glass. She was caught between the puddle of black water and the demon's cage. She seized a partially empty jar off the ground and prepared to lob it at her attacker. This time she would not miss.

Throwing himself off the table, Iago snatched the loose fabric of her trousers and jerked just as she threw her weight forward. The motion threw her off balance, and she fell backwards. She flung her arms forward, knowing instinctively that her head was going to smash into the cage.

In the moment before she would have hit the bars, two hands caught her shoulders. For a moment, time felt almost suspended, then she was pushed off to the side.

Belle collapsed to the floor, her back against the bookcase, expecting to see Jafar standing behind her. Instead, the Dark One was up against the bars of his cage, doing his level best to throttle Iago who had not been able to stop his forward momentum in time. The bigger man struck at the demon's head and arms, gabbling out orders, but the Dark One's face only became more determined.

The door to the workroom flung open. Jafar swept into the room. "What the devil is all this racket-" His eyes fell upon the struggling Dark One and assistant. With a sweep of his hand, he made the demon fall back with a cry of pain.

Iago slumped to the floor, gasping. "I-it was him, master! He found a hole in your commands and allied with the girl!" He eyes fell on the bottles broken from his leap across the table. "And she tried to ruin your experiment!"

Jafar's look did not bode well for the Dark One. He moved forward, then looked down in distaste as his feet crunched on the broken glass from the spilt potion. The potion had turned a rich golden color. His eyes widened.

He yanked Iago to his feet, pointing at the ground. "What did you say? Tell me everything that you said from the moment I left the room!"

Iago's twitching eyes fell on Belle. "I . . . told her to clean up the mess. She refused me. She tried to throw some of the vials at me. Then she led me around the table so that _he _could attack me!"

Belle managed to rise to feet. "That is _not _true! He told me to come to his chambers tonight. Then I refused him." She felt a twinge of relief as Jafar's attention turned from the Dark One.

Jafar stared down at the golden potion. "No, that can't be right..."

Iago pointed back at the cage. "But later when I was being attacked, I ordered it to stop! And it didn't!"

Now Jafar was staring through the demon's form. "Orders," he whispered. "Of course, orders!" He pointed at the shaking assistant. "Start siphoning up all of it. If you get dirt or anything else with it, I will flay the skin from your bones."

"But, master-"

Jafar ignored him as he turned to the cage. "And now, my pet, you are going to tell me exactly how you got around my command."

The Dark One grinned. "Is that an order, my lord?"

In response, Jafar clenched his hand into a fist. The demon collapsed to the ground, making choked noises and writhing.

Belle darted forward to pull at the sorcerer's hand. "No! Iago told me about Agrabah! He told me all about Agrabah!"

Jafar's hand dropped like it was made of stone. "What?" He loomed over Iago before the bigger man could began pleading. "What have I told you about _talking_!" The last was said at a roar.

Without looking at her, Jafar pointed a skeletal finger towards the door. Belle didn't have to be told twice; green tinged shadows were already gathering around the sorcerer. With a last look at the Dark One, she fled to her room.

-X-

She spent some time pacing as best she could in the small space, shaking from the adrenaline. Shame washed over her in steady waves. How could she have thought him inhuman? She had never been so disgusted with herself.

She could think of few ulterior motives that would induce him to save her. Even if he hoped to place himself in her favor, he had to see that Jafar and Iago still had all the power.

Well, Jafar did, she thought with a wince as Iago's cry of "I'm sorry!" could be heard even in her room. At least his shrieks meant that Jafar wasn't torturing the Dark One at the moment.

And at any rate, it had worked. She would do anything in her power to give the Dark One his freedom. He had saved her at cost to himself, and anyone who would do that could not be entirely evil. And as for whatever he planned to do once he was loose, they would cross that bridge when they came to it.

Now she owed him her life.

She flopped down on the bed and set to thinking. She would try talking to him again tomorrow, assuming Jafar let her back into the room. And assuming the Dark One could still talk to her. They could always go back to blinking.

Again she wondered what sort of hold Jafar had over the demon. She had only been in his employ for two weeks so she didn't exactly have a complete set of knowledge. From what she'd read, demons could be controlled through blood sigils or incantations.

She thought the incantation theory unlikely. Far too high maintenance and impractical for Jafar.

She had yet to spot any sigils. Although they could be invisible. And it would explain why they could only keep him in the cage or on the table. She had no idea how to go about breaking invisible sigils.

Huffing out a breath, Belle rolled over and buried her face in the pillow. Gaston had been right. She did think too much.


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning, or evening technically, Belle entered the workroom unsure how much of it would still be intact. So it was much to her surprise that the room was pristine.

The glass was gone from the floor and the golden liquid was now contained in vials. Such was the benefit of magic, she supposed. However, they hadn't bothered to use any of it on _her _chores.

Jafar stood behind the table, fiddling with a sculpture of a cobra's head. Two holes marked the place where its eyes should have been, giving it a soulless quality. The head was made of the same metal as the pole which now leaned against the table by Jafar's side. She noticed that the end of it had been tapered off into a dull point.

The Dark One was still in his cage. His scales looked dull and pale, and his breathing was shallow.

Jafar didn't look up at her entrance. "If Iago had told you any more about my plans, I would kill you now. As it is, you can do nothing to harm me."

"Yes, sir." Belle shuddered.

"I suggest you hurry with your duties. You wouldn't want to wear out your welcome."

"No, sir." She returned to her window. The entire horizon was now visible. She had hoped to see some sign of animal life, but so far only the view held only sand. The moon was very beautiful though. Silvery yellow like a polished coin, it appeared even larger than the sun on the horizon.

An exhausted and shaking Iago limped into the room with the traveling bag. He began to fill it with the vials of the golden liquid. "Your bag is ready, master."

"Excellent." Jafar drew the word out into a hiss. He crooked a finger at Belle until she approached. "If I discover that you have disobeyed me in the slightest during my absence, I will destroy you. Do I make myself clear?"

Belle stared into his oily eyes. They only reflected her image back at her. "I understand."

Jafar nodded. "I expect the floor and window to be spotless upon my return. Then we will discuss how you are going to rid the ceiling of cobwebs." He connected the cobra's head to the top of the pole and left the room.

Iago followed after him with the air of a beaten dog. Just before the door closed behind him, his eyes met hers. And she knew the next time she was alone with him would be the end of one of them.

As she had the last time, Belle cleaned the window for most of the morning until she could be sure that they had left. When the castle felt empty, she approached the cage where the Dark One lay.

"Thank you for saving me. He didn't hurt you, did he?"

The demon made no move to answer her. Then his half-lidded eyes closed once, twice. _No._

Belle made a noise of distress. He was lying.

She examined him for signs of injury, her earlier embarrassment at his form gone. She didn't see any outward sources of pain, although the rate of his breathing worried her. She placed a hand on his forehead to check for a fever and wondered at the coolness of his skin. She speculated that he might be cold-blooded. If so, the coolness of the room could hardly be comfortable.

"I'm going to free you. I promise. I'm sorry it took me so long." She brushed his matted hair with her fingers for a moment before realizing that he was blinking his eyes rapidly. She pulled her hand away. "Sorry."

The look he gave her was one of unfocused irritation. Belle realized how impatient he must be.

"Alright, Jafar has control over you. Is it from blood sigils?"

Two blinks. _No. _

"An incantation?"

_No._

"Some sort of spell?"

Even with a paralyzed face, he managed to glare at her. "Oh right, those are the same thing. Okay, what about a magical object?"

He slammed his eyes shut. _Yes!_

"Yes!" Belle echoed. "Is it a magic wand?"

He sighed. _No. _

"Some sort of magic rock?"

_No. _

"I can't name every magic object in creation!"

The look he gave her was sardonic. No, she could not.

"Let's try a different tactic. Will I know it when I see it?"

Three blinks.

"Maybe?"

_Yes. _

"Is it in this room?"

_No. _

That seemed logical. She couldn't imagine Jafar keeping the Dark One and the thing to control him in the same place.

A worrisome thought occurred. "It's not...on his person, is it?"

Two blinks.

"Oh, thank goodness! Somewhere in the castle, then?"

_Yes. _

"Do you know exactly where?"

_No. _

"I'll have to look around then." She surveyed the room. The bookshelves caught her eye. Of course, the books! How could she have forgotten herself! "Can I find the answer in these books?"

_No. _

"So much for that. There's never any call for good reading comprehension these days. Maybe I'll read them anyway."

The look he gave her was clearly one of disbelief. And she hated that he was right. She had too much cleaning and object hunting to do.

"I had better get most of these chores done first. Then I can spend the rest of the time looking around." It would probably be wiser to clean a little bit every day so to have better odds of Jafar walking in on her when she was doing something obedient. However, Iago was likely to kill her anyway. The sooner she could free the Dark One and escape, the better.

She set to scrubbing like mad, scouring her fingers against the stones. As she worked, she said aloud as many poems about adventure and quests as she could remember, both to keep her pace and to provide something for the Dark One to focus on.

When she ran out of poetry, she started on her favorite stories. She even tried mimicking the voices as she heard them in her head. She hoped that she wasn't annoying him, but she thought that he was listening. His eyes looked clearer at least.

She finished the floor to the best of her abilities by suppertime. She gave him a bit of water and then headed for the door. "If I find anything, I'll bring it back and ask you about it."

Once out in the hallway, she chose the passageway leading off to the left. She started when a candle sconce lit up as she approached it but shrugged it off. She supposed she should be grateful that she wouldn't have to steal a candle from the kitchen.

She came across many rooms after an hour of wandering. Each one only held shelves of empty vials. It was only after the seventh of such rooms that she realized that the haphazard arrangement vials was exactly identical in each room.

Resolving to pay better attention, she reentered the previous room. The air immediately became sweltering. Her vision wavered, and for a moment she thought that she was going to faint. She placed a hand against the wall for balance.

Her hand wasn't shimmering though, only the walls of the room were swimming in and out of place. She walked forward with more determination only to discover that walking had become more difficult.

Sand. The floor had melted away into sand. Belle pushed forward again, watching with awe as the walls were replaced by the stark landscape that she had memorized through her window.

She was again shocked by the heat even though it was the dead of night. The sand whipped into her open mouth. She turned to stare up at the castle which was neither as tall or as grand as she would have thought given how long it took to walk anywhere inside of it. Clearly there was some sort of enchantment at work.

She had a sudden compulsion to run out onto the sandy hills. To get as far away as she could. What good could she possibly do here? She was just a princess from a small duchy, and she had never gotten to see the world. This was her chance.

But she could not leave the trapped Dark One behind. And given the heat and desolation, she doubted that she would survive in this climate for long.

Belle hurried back through the hole in the castle wall. The walls and floor melted back around her to form the room again by the time she reached the door.

She stood for a moment, looking to find inconsistencies to show signs of an enchantment. The only tell she noticed was the heat of the room. Hardly any wonder given all the holes that there probably were in the castle. She gasped. She hadn't been sleeping outside, had she?

Shuddering, Belle headed back the way she had come. It was almost sunrise, judging from how the sky had looked. She would continue her search and spend some more time with the Dark one the next day.

-X-

The back of her room did not lead to the outside as far as she could tell. Which was fortunate because she thought her room fairly close to the top of the castle.

She grabbed some dried meat and a roll of bread from the kitchen and returned to the workroom. The Dark One still lay in the same position at the bottom of his cage.

"Good morning. Would you like some water?"

It took him a moment to open his eyes, and she noticed with some alarm that his breathing was raspy. She hurried over to the bucket and dripped some water into his mouth.

"I'll keep trying. But the rooms are sort of odd. I mean, they lead to the outside."

He only stared at her.

"Would you like me to move you? Into a more comfortable position, I mean."

He glared. _No. _

"Sorry. I'll just go back to searching then." She had meant to clean some of the window, but she didn't like how much weaker he appeared. If she were the one stuck in one place, she would be dying with frustration.

She started down the opposite hall from the one she had chosen the day before. She entered every door, making sure it melted away into the desert before heading for the next one.

Some time later, Belle stumbled into a room just like all the others only to have it melt away into a larger chamber. She looked around, more interested in finding a water pump than any magical artifacts at that point.

A chill ran up her spine when she realized that she was in a tattered bedroom and that there was someone in it. A women dressed in the most ridiculous black dress was standing in front of the bed, smiling at her.

Belle began to back towards the door. Whether the woman was a thief or another servant, she wanted to be able to get away if necessary.

The woman raised a hand just as the enchantment began to melt over Belle. The storeroom of vials melted away, leaving Belle standing out in the open space of the bedroom.

The smile spread across the woman's red lips as she glided over. "Hello, my dear. I had heard Jafar had a new pet, but I didn't think he would be one for such ornaments."

Not entirely sure what was going on, Belle took another step backwards in search of the door. "I'm sorry, but I really should get back to cleaning."

"Stay with me for a minute. I'm here to help you." She laid her hands on the lace and leather of her spiky dress.

Belle frowned. A few weeks in Jafar's employ had lessened her propensity to trust. "Help me how?"

"You want to free the Dark One," she said casually.

Belle took a hesitant step back. "And you know how?"

"Of course. I'm many times more powerful than that fraud of a sorcerer you've been scrubbing the floors for. He can't even keep a tangible castle."

Ever curious, Belle began to probe for more information. She had noticed that a wide, innocent expression and quick questions would encourage a speaker to elaborate. "Jafar's a fraud?"

"Of course. He's been leeching off the Dark One's powers for years now. He uses the scales for everything, the castle, teleportation. He even defeated your little ogres with stolen power."

Belle fought against getting side tracked by the mention of her homeland. Time to steer the conversation towards Agrabah. "What does he want?"

"Power," she sneered. "He got rejected by a scantily clad princess. Now he wants to rule the kingdom."

Belle clasped her hands in front of her. "No wonder he's so angry."

The other woman crossed her arms in a single snapped motion. "You're missing my point, dear. You shouldn't be sympathizing with Jafar. What you should be doing is freeing the Dark One."

"How?"

"True Love's Kiss."

Belle lost control of her innocent expression as true surprise came over her face. "But-"

"Oh, I've seen it, my dear. You were made for each other." A deeper smoothness had come into her voice.

"But I don't think I love him."

She threw her hands up. "That hardly matters. True Love's Kiss will always work when no other spells or potions are involved. If he's your soul mate, then it will free him."

"But he's a demon. Can demons even love? How can a kiss cure him of what he is?"

"Okay, you think entirely too much. You can either kiss him or let him die in captivity. It's that simple."

Belle hesitated, feeling the stranger's patience running thin. "So if I kiss him, he'll be free?"

The woman's slippery smile returned, and her form began to dissipate in a cloud of purple smoke. "True Love's Kiss can break any curse."

Belle was left in the empty the room, mind racing. It was a curse. That's what was keeping him under Jafar's thrall. And he was her true love? She felt sympathy and a sort of protectiveness for him, but love?

It was worth a try, she decided as she dug through the trunk at the foot of the bed. Sketchy as taking advice from a woman who randomly appeared in what appeared to be Jafar's bedroom was, Belle knew the stories. True Love's Kiss could never be evil. And it would certainly be easier than searching through hundreds of unsubstantial rooms for an unknown item.

Smiling to herself, Belle abandoned her search and headed back towards the workroom. She would do the brave thing. She didn't love him; she didn't know anything about him. But if what the woman said were true...

-X-

Rumplestiltskin lay on the floor of his cage and tried to breath through shattered ribs. He had always taken his healing abilities for granted. Pain was so much more irritating when it couldn't be magicked away with a thought. And with it came the terrifying realization that his body was failing.

Once Jafar had finished squeezing information out of Iago, he had thrown the Dark One around his cage until he gave up the loopholes in the command. Rumplestiltskin had been ordered to prevent harm from befalling Iago; Belle's throwing of the broken vial into his face may well have killed him. There was no order against protecting Belle. And while pulling Iago up by his neck might be defined as "harm," he was only preventing the man from touching the potion on the floor. The lesser of two evils, if you will. So really Jafar should be thanking him.

Jafar had not been amused.

Instead he had scraped some of the golden potion into a vial and poured it down Rumplestiltskin's throat. The world had gone dull and distant for a while. He was barely aware of Jafar speaking. When he came back to himself, his body was purging itself of every last drop of the potion along with what looked like quarts of blood. It was agony on his broken chest, and he fell into darkness for a while.

The world had returned little by little. When he had his ability reason back, he examined what he knew about the potion. It seemed to have put him in a sort of trance. And it had almost killed him. With an inward chuckle, Rumplestiltskin prayed that Jafar had tried it on Iago.

Then Belle had entered into his awareness. She was catching on more quickly than he could have hoped, but the frustration at being unable to speak was driving him mad. Words had been his weapon and defense for a long time.

He fought hard to ignore her concern about his well being, the words a balm to his shattered body and decimated pride. No one had cared what happened to him in so long. He had to remember that she was using him just as he was using her. When the time came, she too would try to control him.

Then her fingers carded through his hair. He blinked rapidly, struggling against the soothing effects of her touch and was grateful when she stopped.

He dozed over the next day or so as his body labored to heal itself without magic. He was aware that Belle was talking for periods of time, and he listened to the rhythm and soft tones of her voice. For once, it was not himself ripping Jafar to pieces that he saw when he closed his eyes but temples in lost jungles, treasure buried on sinking islands, and knights charging up staircases.

The world faded again. It was becoming more difficult to breathe.

Belle's face swam into his vision. "I didn't find your object yet, but I want to try something."

It took a long moment for her words to register, and by then she was leaning her head through the bars of his cage. For a moment, he thought she would try to bite him, then her lips pressed against his.

Her jerked back from her, scrambling up with an arm wrapped around his chest. "What are you doing?!"

Belle beamed at him, her hands clutching the bars. "It's working!"

Her words sent cold rage through him. Followed closely by terror when he saw the lightened skin on his arm. "Get out!" He flung a hand towards the door, then doubled over as it tore at his chest.

"But this means it's true love!"

He flew at the bars, shoving her back. "Get _out_!"

"Why don't you believe me?"

"_Because no one-" _His throat closed off, and his knees buckled. He snarled wordlessly at Belle, reaching for her with his claws.

She fled.

As the door slammed shut behind her, the familiar paralysis returned, and he fell back onto his side. His limbs arranged themselves into their positions and froze.

Terror coursed through him. For so long his world had consisted of the cage and table, and to suddenly add such emotion was more than he was capable of understanding. And the sudden threat to his magic and all his plans was enough for him to lose all control.

So, she thought him an experiment, did she? Something to manipulate and control. Once he had control of his dagger, he would show her his true power.

He focused on his breathing until he had regained control, keeping each inhalation slow so that he would retain consciousness.

Belle returned not half an hour later, her eyes red and puffy. She drew herself up, hands clenched at her sides. "You were freeing yourself! You could have had your freedom and happiness. But you want to be here, don't you? You're too scared to leave all this behind."

His fight to keep his expression detached failed, and he glared at her with everything he had left. He hated that he had to sit and listen while she spoke. Her words had also hit entirely too close to the truth, and it left him shaking with rage.

Belle turned away, then looked back at him. "You never really wanted me to find the object, did you?" She left the room.


	7. Chapter 7

Belle spent some time pacing her room, hurt coursing through her. This was not at all what finding your true love was supposed to be like. And now hers was wasted on a creature too scared to leave his cage.

Flinging herself down on her cot, Belle squeezed her eyes shut. She was tired of crying. There was no point in trying to find whatever object could free him when he didn't want to be free.

Her old sense of honor returned. She had made a deal to clean that rotten workroom, and she would do so until her job was done. Then she would pack some food and water and drag the Dark One out of the castle, kicking and screaming if she must.

Her brow furrowed in pity. How long had he been in that cage? Maybe he didn't know how to survive in the outside world. She would help him, she vowed. He could come home with her; he'd like the palace gardens. They would start small. But she didn't like to think of how her father would react to her guest. If Maurice was even still alive.

She slept little that night, going over the ill-fated kiss again and again. She rose early the next day and went to the workroom. She had to finish the window.

She wasn't ready to look over at the cage, although she could hear the Dark One breathing. She stared and scrubbed at the window until her eyes and arms burned.

She had been balanced on a chair stolen from the kitchen, wiping at the top panes, when Jafar and Iago had entered the room.

The cobra's head had been attached to the staff, and two red gems had been added as the snake's eyes. Jafar twirled it between his hands as Iago set about clearing off the worktable. Belle did not like the way the shorter man looked at her with excited expectancy.

"Did you have a nice trip?" she asked. They ignored her.

When the vials and books had been stuffed away into a trunk, Jafar motioned for Belle to join him near the table. "Now then, I believe we are going to have a little experiment."

"Would you like me to leave?" Belle asked, twisting her hands.

"No, no, this I'd like you to see." He lent the head of the snake toward Iago who flinched back. "You will dance for me," Jafar hissed.

Iago's eyes went blank and red tinged. "Dance for you," he mumbled. Then he immediately began to jig about the room to music only he could hear. Belle watched in horrified fascination as he clicked his heels and jumped about.

Jafar was laughing. "Now lick the floor."

There was no hesitation. Iago was on his knees, laving the stone with his tongue.

"Stop it!" Belle cried. She might not have liked Iago, but no one needed to have their dignity stripped from them in such a way.

Jafar's grin did not falter. "You see, my dear, power is control. And you have long been flaunting my control." He glided over to the cage. "Allow me to show you another demonstration. One you will never forget."

He pulled a scroll from his pocket and opened the door to the cage. He began to read in tones increasing in pitch and volume. "I, Jafar the Sorcerer, order the Dark One to slaughter Belle of Avon, the cleaning maid."

Belle did not hear anymore. She pivoted on her foot, running away seemed a horrible mistake yet waiting while the demon stalked towards her was beyond her control. She ran for the door and down the hall.

Heavy footsteps echoed behind her, and she ran faster, completely gone in her panic. She fell on the first door she came to and yanked it open, desperate to reach the open desert.

A hand caught her hair, forcing her backwards into meaty arms. Iago, now apparently freed from the enchantment, wheezed into her hair, "I said you wouldn't be able to stop me." His arm wrapped across her stomach while his hand went across her throat.

Before he could fully get his arm in place, Belle tilted her chin down and bit into the flesh of his forearm. Howling, Iago jerked backwards. Belle shoved at him, and he hit the floor hard.

She turned to run, but his hand caught her heel. She too hit the floor. Dazed from the impact, she tried to pull herself forward. Iago was on his feet a moment later. He dragged her backwards by the neck of her tunic. He grunted something at her, but she didn't understand it.

She clawed at him, but he was rushing back down the hallway now, a solid force with the weight of momentum and hatred driving him onward. She knew she was going to die.

-X-

Jafar was just winding down to the end of the command when the door to the workroom flew open, revealing a red-faced Iago dragging a dazed Belle.

Rumplestiltskin looked at them dully, the weight of the new order on his shoulders. None of it mattered anymore. All of his plans were for naught. The years of careful planning that looked as if they would finally come to fruition meant nothing now. Now that Jafar had his staff, he had no reason to keep the his pet demon around. He would use the dagger and take the powers of the Dark One for his own.

Rumplestiltskin winced as Iago hauled the girl up onto the worktable. He wanted her to live. Whatever idiotic ideas her saccharine stories had given her, she had tried to help him. She had made a tolerable companion. He would mourn her death and hate that he was the one to end her.

Without a pause in his reading, Jafar tossed the staff at Iago, who caught it. He pointed it at Belle, ordering her to stop struggling, but he could not get her to look into its jeweled eyes.

Jafar reached the final line of the scroll. "-So say I, Jafar, coward, to Rumplestiltskin, coward." To Rumplestiltskin's shock, the command did not sink beneath his skin. He felt no compulsion to move or even stay still.

He rose to his haunches, looking down at his scaly hands. She had changed him. He may still have been the Dark One, but her kiss had changed him. His mind flew to the last line of the command. Coward. He still was a coward and always would be. But that was no longer what defined him.

His eyes flew to Jafar's as he rose to his feet. Magic flowed through him, all the more powerful for having been contained for so long. They'd used a fraction of what he was.

A rictus grin spread across his features, and he stalked toward the stammering sorcerer. Jafar held forth his hand. "Stop! I order you to stop!" The command was useless. Only the dagger could control the Dark One, but the command itself had so many holes in it that it barely registered.

Rumplestiltskin raised a hand, summoning a ball of burning green into his palm. He flung it at Jafar who threw himself out of the way. The ball hit the table where they had pinned him so many times, and he felt indescribable satisfaction when it exploded into fiery sludge.

Jafar was gabbling incantations, all of them useless. It was the Dark One's magic he had been using, magic he could no longer control.

A ringing noise caught Rumplestiltskin's scattered attention. Iago had dropped the staff, and both he and Belle were frozen in terror.

He pointed a shaking hand at the door. "Leave."

Belle scrambled off the table and left. Iago tried to follow, but a wave of Rumplestiltskin's hand sent the man crashing into the bookshelves with enough force to break every bone in his body. The parts of Rumplestiltskin that could think beyond the roaring in his ears considered that merciful.

"No!" Jafar's shout brought his attention back to the matter at hand. The sorcerer had moved to snatch up his staff. He pointed it at Rumplestiltskin's eyes. Rumplestiltskin turned his head away, snarling. However, that moment gave Jafar just enough time to take a vial from his robes and throw it onto the ground. Green smoke engulfed the gasping sorcerer.

With a cry of rage, the Dark One dissipated the smoke, but Jafar was gone.

The urge to follow the man was overwhelming, but Rumplestiltskin would not leave a stone of the castle standing, the books in ashes, and the potions melted into the stone.

With green flame licking out from his body, Rumplestiltskin lurched down the hall. The castle crumbled behind him, groaning and wrenching.

He reached a room that was not an illusion and saw the two women that brought Jafar and Iago meals. They had never tried to help him, and it would condemn them. He raised a burning hand.

Another figure darted in front of them, and there was enough of himself left to recognize it as Belle. She held her arms outstretched before the two shaking forms. "No. They didn't do anything to harm you."

"_But they didn't save me either!_" His voice was gleeful and distant.

"Please," Belle said. "Let them go."

He wanted to burn the room down around them, but he would not kill Belle. She had saved him. He turned back to the hallway, and he could hear Belle pulling the women in the other direction.

He let his magic free until he couldn't see for the flames growing around him. There would be nothing left to ever tell of his captivity and humiliation by the time he was done.


	8. Chapter 8

The castle burned. Belle sat alone on a sandy hill and watched as the stones collapsed in a mass of green flame. She hadn't known that stone could melt.

The moon hung low in the sky, framing the tower as it too fell to the earth.

Belle looked in the direction that the two women had gone. She had tried to follow them, but they had shied away from her hands, calling her demon-touched and cursed. It was the first thing they had ever said to her.

At any rate, she could not leave the Dark One. Not until she knew whether he was alive.

As if summoned, she saw his figure come staggering out of the rubble. She rose and walked to where he stood, swaying on his feet. He held a metal box in his hands.

She examined him, but although his complexion was waxy and his entire form was shaking badly, he did not seem to be injured. The confused look he was giving her was worrisome though. She reached forward to check his head for signs of a wound, but instead he handed her the box.

She nearly fell forward from the weight of it. "What's in it?"

He waved aside her question. "Where do you live?" His voice was rasped and low.

"Avon." Her heart rose in her throat. "Can you take me home?"

"I ... don't think so." With a striking motion, he snatched her hand. His eyes unfocused, and Belle gasped as green fog engulfed her.

-X-

Belle had but a second to stare about the dusty room that she found herself in before her companion slumped to the floor with a groan. She dropped to her knees beside him, placing the box on the ground. "You shouldn't have used so much energy after being paralyzed."

He shot her a murderous look which he then ruined by groaning pitifully. She put her arms beneath her shoulders and hoisted him to his feet.

She dragged him towards the bed across the room then cringed at the dusty sheets. "Is there a cleaner room nearby?" A look at the Dark One showed him to be beyond answering. "Never mind."

With some effort she got him under the stiff blankets. "Do you want some water or food?"

His eyes remained closed, but his hand twitched towards the box. "My name," he rasped. Then he was asleep.

Belle felt like collapsing herself, but instead, she sat down on the grimy floor and fiddled with the lock. She squeaked when Iago's voice emanated from the air around her: "Choose right and control the Dark One. Choose wrong and your life is done."

Belle frowned when the voice faded. "That was awful." She wondered at how much responsibility Jafar had allowed Iago. Her stay at the castle had been like a half hearted imitation of a questing tale.

The lock had vanished at the end of the little riddle, and Belle pushed the lid open to peer into the box. Inside were about a dozen daggers, all with crooked blades and intricate handles. She poured them out onto the floor, careful not to touch. She wondered how in the world she was to choose before she saw that each blade had a name engraved on the flat surface.

Using her tunic's fabric as protection, she flipped over the daggers until they sat in a row, name side up. _Beelzebub. Belial. Mammon. Rumplestiltskin. Mulciber. Moloch. Uriel. Abbadon. Mephistopheles. Azmodel. Gothmog. Malacodo. _

Some of the names were familiar to her from lore. It brought home to her just how dangerous the Dark One was. He was not some poor soul in need of saving. He was a demon.

Her heart raced as she stared at the daggers. How was she to choose when they all sounded so demonic?

She'd have to start eliminating them. She picked up Uriel with her shirt tail and placed it back in the box. From what she remembered, Uriel was an angel.

Mephistopheles, Abbadon, and Malacodo received the same treatment. They were fictitious.

The others though. After a moment of thought, Gothmog was out of the running. It just didn't sound right to her.

Beelzebub she also removed. He was Satan himself, wasn't he? And whatever else the Dark One was, she didn't think that he was so evil.

She dug her fingers into her hair as she read through the list again. _Belial. Mammon. Rumplestiltskin. Mulciber. Moloch. Azmodel. _

The third name made her giggle a little. It created such an odd picture. She rested her fingertips against the handle. Jafar wouldn't come up with such a ridiculous name as a trick. The rest of the names were so demonic, very frightening. It stood out somehow.

She picked up the dagger and said, "Rumplestiltskin."

There was no flash of light. No inclinations towards world domination or senseless evil filled her soul. But she hadn't died either. It was enough to tell Belle that she had chosen correctly.

She looked over at the sleeping demon. At least now she had something to call him.

She tossed the false daggers back into the box and shoved the whole thing beneath the bed. The real dagger she placed on the desk beside the window. She'd decide what to do with it later.

With no more tasks to complete, she wavered. She was tired and emotionally drained, but she didn't relish the thought of wandering through a demon's home without his permission. She crept to the edge of the bed and slid beneath the blankets, keeping as far away from Rumplestiltskin as she could.

With barely a thought as to the dusty, crackling texture of the bed beneath her, Belle slipped into sleep.

-X-

Belle stretched in languor only to start coughing as she inhaled ancient dust. Squeezing her eyes shut, she attempted to roll onto her back only to discover that something was preventing her. She peered over her shoulder and had to smother a squeak as scaly skin and matted hair loomed in her vision.

Apparently Rumplestiltskin had moved closer to her in the night and put his back to hers. His skin was marginally warmer than it had been in the castle, and she decided that he must be rather cold blooded.

She reached over her shoulder and ran her fingertips down his shoulder blade. She smiled into the chill air when she felt full scales plated neatly down as far as she could reach. It seemed that releasing him had also healed his injuries. Even his breathing was missing its rasping quality.

But it did not appear as if he would be doing much more than sleeping for the next few days. And Belle's throat felt dry with dust. Thirst would win over her fear of magical traps.

After wrapping the stiff blankets around the Dark One's form as best she could, Belle started down the hall away from the bedroom. A few minutes walking told her that the castle was many times larger than Jafar's, although it still had the same insubstantial feeling. She found herself walking quicker than usual for fear of melting through the flagstones.

Moss covered most of the walls, and tangling vines dropped down from cracks in the ceiling. Weeds caught at her trousers as she tromped through the abandoned walkways. She examined with fascination the plants growing through and around the trinkets scattered throughout.

She had just begun to get somewhat desperate for a well or kitchen when she came upon a room with a shallow pool of water covering the floor. She peered with intrigue at the silver coins, faded paintings, and sheets of music at the bottom.

The water tasted fine to her, fresh even. She filled a cracked vase and brought it back to the bedroom. She tried to give some to Rumplestiltskin, but the demon did not stir.

A few hours' search yielded a kitchen, its floor thick with dust. Belle would have thought everything edible destroyed by mice, but after tugging on the pantry door with all of her strength, it opened to reveal a well stocked larder.

Her stomach rumbled as she gaped at the meats, eggs, cheese, and bread, all as fresh as if they had been purchased that morning. She pulled a ham hock down from a hook into the ceiling and bit into it, humming as the salty flavor filled her mouth. It tasted fine to her, and although the thought of poisoning flashed through her mind, she quickly dismissed it as she wolfed down some bread. Jafar had not been generous with rations.

She began to stuff various foodstuffs into a cheesecloth, pulling open containers as she went. Her mouth dropped open as she peered into the last box. Fruit. Apples and grapes and berries and many other varieties that she had never before seen.

Such treasures were rare for her. She could expect berries at Christmas as a treat, but the marshlands were unsuitable for farming. Sliding to the floor, Belle selected an apple and savored it.

Eventually it occurred to her that she was gorging herself on a demon's larder while the creature himself lay starving in bed. She placed a bunch on grapes into the cheesecloth with the rest and started back.

She was staggering by the time she found the bedroom again. She yawned as she hoisted the cheesecloth so that it would not hit the floor.

Rumplestiltskin was huddled in on himself, clutching the blankets and squinting into the gloomy air. "I see you've raided my kitchen."

Belle sat down beside him on the bed. "I brought you some supper."

The Dark One's jaw clenched. "Forget the food."

Belle looked over at the cracked vase now devoid of liquid and struggled to keep here eyes open. "Would you like some water? I found a pool that-"

One of his hands released the blanket and stiffly clutched her arm. The moment reminded her very much of cool spring mornings when any snakes she found in the garden would wrap themselves around her arm. Belle cursed her stupidity as she realized for what he was asking.

Sliding beneath the blankets so that her body was next to his, she ran her hand up and down his back to generate friction. She expected him to be recalcitrant, but he immediately moved closer to her, placing an arm around her waist.

With monumental effort, Belle moved the cheesecloth onto the floor. "Will you eat something for me?"

Rumplestiltskin shook his head, face blank. She decided to wait until he was warmer.

Taking the opportunity to examine him more closely, she rubbed her hand down his arm. She was interested to note that the scales did not cover his entire body. They merged into skin on his underarm. And now that she was not being shouted or clawed at, she could see that his face, although odd in texture, was covered in greenish gray skin as well.

She wondered if he was a demon in charge of reptiles or something of the sort. Maybe she would find the nerve to ask him later. And to ask just how he had managed to escape Jafar's control.

Keeping the movement of her hand slow and steady, she settled herself for the night. She was still exhausted, and Rumplestiltskin was making contented noises low in his throat that told her he was nearly asleep.

They needed to have a long talk about what he wanted from her, and how she was to return home, and the whole true love incident. But on this rare occasion, it could wait until the next day. Feeling her companion growing warm from her body heat, Belle followed him into sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Rumplestiltskin woke late in the afternoon and grimaced at his new captor, wrapped around him like a living cage. All of Jafar's compulsions were gone, the blockages to his magic having been broken, even if for the moment he was completely drained. It could only mean that she had guessed his name, and he had a new master.

He rolled out of bed, scanning the floor for the chest. A minute later, he had it in his lap, lid open. He scowled as he dug through the contents. Of course she had hidden it.

She had been out of the room, the cheesecloth and vase made that obvious. Shoving the chest back under the bed, he stalked from the room, running over every secret hiding place between his bedroom and the kitchen.

The thought of killing her crossed his mind as he began pulling up flagstones to peer beneath for the dagger. He couldn't tell if she had been issuing orders while he slept, but he knew that he would find out soon enough.

However, he amended as he began to shiver, he might need her help over the next few days until he was rested. And at any rate, Belle may have been brighter than he had expected, but she wasn't capable of keeping him contained for long.

Another thought caught his attention. He had to see if Regina had obeyed his instructions.

He headed to the grand tower, stopping often to rest or peer into vases in case the girl had stuffed his dagger inside. The state of his home appalled him. Many of pieces in his collection had been broken as the castle decayed in his absence. It would take some time to set it all to rights.

He started coughing the moment he stepped foot into his workroom. The place was dank with the smell of rotting potions and raw ingredients. He was careful not to touch anything as he approached his desk. To his pleasure, the contract and the scroll with his instructions were missing, and no one else could have entered the castle in his absence.

So, there was Regina's somewhat limited intelligence to worry about. And his dagger. And the girl with her delusional fantasies. And his wreck of a home. Not to mention Jafar was still running about with all of his organs intact. It was more than he had to worry about in a long time, and he felt light-headed from the sudden expansion of his world.

Instinct lead him to the grand hall, and he snarled at the broken pieces of his spinning wheel. Gritting his teeth, he exerted his will to bring it back together. The pieces did not so much as twitch, and the effort left him panting.

He hurled the threading hook against the wall. It wasn't fair. The one thing he had wanted to do with his freedom that didn't involve slaughter, and it only reminded him of his helplessness.

He couldn't even go outside, for the tears in the molded drapes showed snow coming down in droves. Without his magic, he wouldn't last long in this weather. Another reminder of his weaknesses.

Belle entered the room sometime later and walked over to where he was sitting, his back against a chunk of the ceiling which had crushed the dining table in half. She dropped to her haunches in front of him. "Will you eat something now, Rumplestiltskin?"

He sneered at her show of power. "No."

"Some tea then?"

He shoved at her shoulders. "Just order me to drink the blasted tea! And then tell me what else you want! It's power, dearie. It's always power. But I have to warn you, if your concentration ever slips, if you ever leave a loophole, then I will destroy you, and then I will finally be free." His outburst, which had started out in a hoarse shout, ended in a croak.

Belle hands had risen to cover her mouth. "Oh, the dagger!" She pulled it out of her trouser pocket and held it out to him, handle first. "I am so sorry. Of course you'd want it back."

Rumplestiltskin hardly heard the rest of her words. He was busy staring at the dagger's handle. She hadn't taken control of him. Even knowing what he was capable of, she was offering him his freedom.

He pulled it out of her hand. "Thank you." His voice was tight with control.

She moved to sit by his side and pushed a peach into his free hand. He absently closed his fingers around the velvety surface, more preoccupied with examining the dagger. It was no imitation, and he could not believe that such a small thing had been the source of so much of his revel and misery.

He tilted his head to the side. "Why don't we make a deal?"

Belle stretched her legs out in front of herself. "I don't like the idea of making a deal with a demon."

"I'm not a demon," he snapped, needled into truth by the memory of Jafar's tales. "I have demonic powers."

Belle's snort told him that wasn't much better, but he continued anyway. "I will allow you to stay in my castle. You will be fed and clothed. In return, you will help me in whatever way I need."

He didn't like the way her eyes had narrowed. "Exactly how long is this arrangement supposed to last?"

"Until I am well again." He grit his teeth at the admission of his weakness.

"And 'help,' what does that entail?"

"Cooking and cleaning." His voiced dropped. "And I need to stay warm."

Her look was uncomprehending. "So finding firewood then?"

His eyes stayed on the floor. "There's not likely to be any nearby."

She made a noise of dawning realization. "You mean like last night."

He jerked his chin, feeling his face redden. "Do we have a deal?"

"Not quite. I want to go home eventually."

"You may not have a home to return to," he said, her misfortune a balm to his bruised pride. "Jafar had to steal magic from me, figure out the right spell, and then fumble through it before your Ogre War could be stopped."

Her face had hardened. "Be that as it may, I want to go home."

"Fine. Do we have a deal or not?"

"One more thing."

He threw up his hands. "What? What else do you want?"

"Do you have a library?"

-X-

And so Belle found herself employed by another sorcerer. The work was much more stressful than her position with Jafar. The tasks themselves were not all that difficult. However, the sheer number of things to do in the castle overwhelmed her. Nature was well on its way to overrunning the place, and Rumplestiltskin wanted her to gather up every bauble and trinket in the castle and bring it to the grand dining room.

The man himself sat by the table fiddling with broken pieces of wood and looking pale.

After a half hour fight with a tangling vine over a pair of terrified-looking puppets, Belle abandoned her first task and instead spent her time washing the sheets. If she was going to be sleeping in that bed, she refused to spend the night wallowing in dust and grime. She had shrieked when she had uncovered the mattress to discover a nest of weevils and several dead moths. After that, she had worked on cleaning out another bedroom.

She was a bit nervous about the other creature with whom she had been sharing a bed. It hadn't been awkward the first two nights, but he had been so out of it then.

The whole true love thing she also avoided. He wasn't dealing well with his newfound freedom. She would have to treat him carefully.

She began by bringing him food. Rumplestiltskin was skeletally thin, and she knew from the previous night that pointy elbows and knobby ribs did not make for comfortable bed fellows.

Besides which, she was coming to think of him as hers. He had the look of an animal searching for shelter. Why food was helping to calm her protective urge, she had no idea, but it was better than cuddling him like a lost puppy. Something told her he wouldn't react well to that at all.

It was nearly dark when she found her way into the dining hall with two bowls of soup. Rumplestiltskin, surrounded by a pile of dusty treasures, ignored her. She sighed when she saw his breakfast sitting untouched at one end of the splintered table.

Walking to his side, Belle folded her legs as she moved to sit on the floor the floor. She placed one of the bowls on a marble pedestal standing upright amidst the clutter. She raised the other to her mouth, drinking deeply. As she drank, she slide over until her side was pressed against his.

He sucked in a breath at the sudden contact, and his skin was cold to the touch. Belle hummed a little and drank more of her soup. The silence felt fragile as glass.

After a while, she felt him relaxing. He stopped fidgeting with his hoard. His alien eyes slide over to the other bowl of soup. Belle handed it to him.

She rested her fingers against a wooden ship in a glass bottle and, waiting until he had finished drinking, asked, "Did you make this?"

He shook his head in between licking the sides of the bowl. Belle pulled a roll out of her pocket and handed it over. "Do you know how they get it inside?"

He lowered the bowl and raised an eyebrow. "Magic."

Belle dimpled. "Is it a magic ship then?"

"No." He shredded the roll. "What would you do with a magic ship?"

"I always wanted to see the world."

"Perhaps more than one world."

Belle frowned. His tone had darkened as he sunk out of the playful mood she had been coaxing him into. Anxious to discharge the tension in the air, she placed a hand against his arm. "You're freezing. Come on, let's go to bed."

He didn't seem to mind the order, allowing her to pull him to his feet. His gaze was still distant, and he swayed alarmingly once he was upright, but she put his arm through hers and guided him out of the hall.

He didn't comment on the new bedroom, and she exited the room to give him some privacy. Standing about in the hall, she plucked at her grimy tunic. She hadn't seen any other clothes for herself, and she was beginning to grow uncomfortable without at least a simple dress. Her trousers and tunic were growing thin from her hasty washings. Not to mention that the sleeves were still stained from where he had clawed her.

She ran her fingers through her hair, stalling for time. Then she grabbed a book that she had found mouldering behind a chair earlier that day and headed back to the bedroom.

Rumplestiltskin had moved to sit on the bed and was arranging the objects on the small table beside it. He had lit the candle, but Belle wished for darkness. She squared her shoulders; she was determined not to be embarrassed.

She took the opposite side of the bed, sliding up until she could lean back against the headboard. She opened the book to the first page.

A few minutes in which she could hear only his breathing. Then Rumplestiltskin was peering around her hands at the pages. "I see you found the library."

"Nope. Just spotted this behind a chair."

"How can you read this?" He had a point. The pages had holes from bookworms, the binding was cracking in half, and the ink was smeared from water damage.

Belle gave him a lofty look. "Some of us appreciate a challenge."

He grinned suddenly. "Some of us would appreciate some sleep." He then blew out the candle.

Belle gave a cry of indignation and would have hit him with the book if it could have withstood the attack. "Hey! I was only going to read one chapter!"

He was already wrapping himself around her. "Our deal didn't involve reading."

Belle placed her book on the table to the side of the bed. "Yes, it did."

"Only as a sub-clause. Not nearly as important as sleeping."

"Sleeping? This seems more like cuddling."

He growled, rolling over so that his back was to her. "_This_ is a business arrangement. And I suggest you come to see it that way so we can both escape with our dignity intact."

Belle rolled her eyes, but she also turned so that her body was pressed against his back. "Agreed. Please forgive me my sensational inclinations."

"Only if you'll stop feeling me up."

Belle made a noise of inquiry, then jerked back when she realized her thumb had been slowly running over the soft scales on his stomach where his shirt had ridden up. "Sorry." Her face was heating, and she was grateful for the darkness of the room.

"No matter."

She took that to mean that he didn't mind too much. She wrapped her arm back around him, settling in for the night. The scales there felt pleasant against her fingertips, like worn leather or leaves. It made up for sleeping against his back where the rougher scales and ridges of his spine dug into her skin through his shirt and hers.

Yawning into his shoulder, Belle closed her eyes and readied herself for a long night.

**AN: And there you have it. Everyone still conscious? Then on with the show...**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Deepest apologies for the late update. I just got a new job and moved to a new town, so life has been somewhat hectic. Thanks as always for the lovely reviews!**

Belle spent the majority of the next fews days in bed, reading or napping. It was a relief. She hadn't realized how exhausting her time spent at Jafar's had been, and the forced bed rest gave her a chance to think.

Rumplestiltskin made distracting comments about whatever book she happened to dig up or dozed against her shoulder. Belle found she didn't mind. The castle's desolated air made her feel lonely.

Also, if she caught him at the right moment, she could get him to tell her stories of his travels or the treasures spread throughout the castle. He seemed to have lost the panicked need to have all his possessions nearby, a fact for which Belle was grateful. She didn't fancy having to haul an entire castle's worth of metal and jewels up to the bedroom.

She came tramping up to the bedroom one evening, hands full with two bowls of sausage and beans. "I wasn't sure exactly how to cook this, so if you feel poisoned, better let me know."

She held out the bowl, praying he would take it. She hadn't had much trouble feeding him in the past few days, but he had seemed sick and lethargic after each meal. She had started bringing only the blandest of foods.

Rumplestiltskin peered into the bowl before taking it out of her hands. "It will take a lot more than a light snack to kill me," he said with a ridiculous amount of pride. He took a bite and grimaced before swallowing.

"Underdone?" Belle's hands tightened on her bowl.

He was already taking another bite. "No, just overly seasoned."

Frowning, Belle ate some herself. If anything, it was nearly tasteless. "Tastes fine to me."

Rumplestiltskin shifted over as she joined him on the bed. "It's fortunate Jafar didn't hire you as a cook, dearie. Else we would all be dead."

"Hey!" Belle cried indignantly. "I'll have you know, I make an excellent sponge cake."

"Something that's beyond my appreciation at the moment."

Belle quieted, for even though his tone was flippant, there was discomfort in his eyes. "How often did Jafar feed you?"

She realized her mistake immediately, as he bared his teeth at her in a parody of a smile. "What, like a pet? Making the demon do tricks for a few sweets?"

Belle placed a hand on his arm, keeping her tone soft. "No, of course not. I'm just wondering what I can do to help. You don't seem well after meals."

She ran her hand down his arm. The last few days had taught her that he liked slow, repetitive touches.

She knew it had worked when he began glaring at his bowl instead. "Jafar feared me. He knew if I ever became strong, I would destroy him." His eyes grew distant and pensive for a minute, and Belle let him be, not wanting to think about how he had killed Jafar and Iago.

However, now that the subject had come up... "How did you manage to escape, by the way?"

His hand fluttered on the bedsheets. "Magic." Belle frowned and leaned forward, but he spoke over her. "How do you know anything about cooking or cleaning? You're a princess."

With an inward sigh, Belle let the question go for the moment. "I didn't always know how. But we were at war. I wanted to be useful. My father and Gaston were completely against it, of course. But once I know something's right, I never quit . . . Before I knew it, I was cooking, cleaning, sewing, even helping the healers."

"You agreed to go with Jafar to save your village."

He hadn't asked her, but she nodded anyway. "I decide my own fate. And I probably would have died anyway, the castle was falling down around my head."

"And I would still be trapped. Thank you."

Belle started. It wasn't often that he made deliberate eye contact, and she was surprised by the depth of gratitude she saw there. "You're welcome. It's fine, really. I would have saved anyone in that situation."

"Yes, but not just anyone would have saved me." He took her bowl from her hands. "At least not without some form of payment - is there anything you want? Anything in the world?"

She averted her eyes, uncomfortable with the intensity of his gaze. There was a hidden facet to the conversation that was slipping from between her fingers. "Well, I do want to go home eventually."

"Yes, yes." He waved his hand. "That's a part of our current deal. I mean anything else?"

"No. I am perfectly content."

He scowled. "I don't like being in anyone's debt."

"You're not in my debt. It was basic human curtesy."

"I'm not human."

"Well, I am." She took a deep breath. It shouldn't be surprsing that he was a little prickly. She smiled at him. "Come on, let's go to sleep." She rolled onto her side, facing away from him. She grinned when, after a moment of grumbling, he followed her.

All was silent for a moment before his breath stirred her hair. "Gaston?"

"Where?" she whispered in mock horror.

He gave an irritated sigh. "Who is Gaston?"

"My fiance."

More silence, then, "Oh."

-X-

Belle stretched her limbs and inhaled deeply. She had burrowed down into the blankets during the night, and she could tell from the light shining through the sheets that it was about midmorning. She should really get up and get breakfast for Rumplestiltskin.

She frowned as she realized that she could not feel him at her back. For the last few days, she had woken each morning in a tangle of limbs, and the difference was startling. Come to think of it, the air smelled different as well.

Throwing off the sheet, Bell sat up in bed and gasped. Thick, soft blankets had replaced the thready sheets. The wooden bed frame was polished and didn't lean to one side.

For a moment, she thought that she had been transported to another castle. Then she had a look around the room. The desk and stained glass window were the same, just repaired and clean. Now she wondered if she hadn't gone back in time.

There could really only be one culprit behind the transformation, and she got out of bed to search for him. She couldn't resist looking in the wardrobe first and laughed with delight at the dozens of dresses she found inside. It was an indescribable relief to change out of the tattered work clothes and into a simple dress.

She wandered through the halls, noting with wonder the suits of armor now upright on their stands and the myriad of treasures now free from weeds and dust. The castle had lost its unreal quality as well, and she smiled at the feel of more solid ground beneath her feet.

She found Rumplestiltskin in the dining hall before a roaring fire. He sat slumped over the table with his chin resting upon his folded arms. Oddest of all the changes she had seen were his clothes. Gone was the frayed tunic, replaced with a coat of scaled leather that hung on his thin frame.

She rested her hip beside him on the table. "You overdid it."

He nodded, then blanched at the movement. "Just wanted to try a small spell."

Belle rolled her eyes. Still, she took the bait for his sake. "This was small?"

"With magic, everything is small." He turned his eyes in her direction. "Do you like your room?"

"Yes, it's beautiful." She felt a small pang at the possessive pronoun. It appeared he would no longer be sharing her bed. "Can you eat breakfast?"

"I'd rather not."

"Do you want to go back to bed?"

"Quit fussing, woman. I'm not made of glass."

Belle thought that he did look made of glass at the moment. His scales seemed almost translucent.

With a sigh, she joined him at the table. "So, what's all this then?"

He gave her a smug smile. "My power has been growing over the last few days. And I was tired of sleeping in musty sheets."

Belle nudged his arm. "I cleaned them best as I could."

"Sad attempt, really." She nudged a bit harder in mock offense at his playful tone.

"In that case, Rumple, I will be making breakfast for one." She flounced up from the table.

He twitched his fingers in a imitation of a wave as she left the room.

Smiling to herself, Belle wandered into the kitchen. She was pleased to note that the larder had restocked itself. While none of the food had rotted, they had been getting low on fruit and bread.

Belle slipped a berry into her mouth and hummed. She also couldn't say that she wasn't enjoying herself. Indeed, she was far happier now than she had been in a long time. And Rumplestiltskin made a good companion when he wasn't pouting or snarling at her.

Her eyebrows rose. Could she be in love? A minute's thought revealed that she was not sure. She hadn't had time to do any research.

Belle looked guiltily down at her now empty bowl of blackberries. She had meant to eat with Rumplestiltskin. Well, she would join him for supper.

Resolved, Belle headed out down a hitherto unexplored hall. She had some reading to do.

-X-

Rumplestiltskin waited at the table until it occurred that Belle wasn't coming back. He hoped he hadn't made her angry. She had known when he was teasing before.

He pushed himself up from the table and moved over to his spinning wheel, remade and sitting in the corner. Her turned the wheel with a finger, rubbing his chest with his other hand. A nagging twinge had started up behind his breast bone, reminding him that he had a deal to fulfill.

He nearly fell over as he sat down before the wheel. He didn't have to send her home just yet. He had said that she could go home when he was well, and he certainly didn't feel very healthy.

At any rate, he had drained nearly everything he had in cleaning up his home. It had been embarrassing, really, keeping a princess in such a place. And he wasn't sure if he had the power to transport her safely back to Avon. That was a risk he would not take.

Maybe they could make a new deal. She fit so neatly into his castle. It was shocking that after all these years of forced company, he didn't want to be alone, but there it was. She was pleasant to look at as well. Like one of his hoarded treasures, this one bought at ever so much dearer a price. And she didn't mind touching him.

Pulling apart a handful of straw, he shook his head. Of course she would want to go home. Her readiness to share his bed and feed him showed her dedication to her father and that Gaston. He desperately wanted to hear more of the other man as much as he never wanted to hear about him again.

Realizing that his thoughts were growing darker, Rumplestiltskin allowed his eyes to fall out of focus, and he began to spin. He may not have had the power to turn anything into gold, but he needed to forget for a while.

-X-

Belle wandered the halls for nearly an hour, peering around doors and into closets at whim. It felt odd that she did not grow thirsty. In Jafar's castle, the air had been thick, and she had been parched after twenty minutes of work. Even so, she shook her head in amusement at herself upon looking for pools of water in each room. Rumplestiltskin's castle was as fine as any she had ever seen. Of course it would not have leaky ceilings anymore.

She looked into the next room, searching for the water basin and grinned when she found instead a large copper tub. It took her ages to retrieve a pot from the kitchen, fill it with water from the tub's pump, and heat it over a nearby fireplace, but sinking down into warm water made it all worth it.

For a while, she lay against the tub's back and stared up at the uniform stones of the ceiling. Then she remembered exactly how long it had been since her last bathing, and she began to scrub herself furiously. Her hair had become utterly unmanageable, and she was sure that she smelled like spoiled milk. No wonder Rumplestiltskin hadn't wanted her in his bed anymore.

Come to think of it, she didn't remember him smelling. She wouldn't have been surprised if Jafar had wanted him kept clean, but Rumplestiltskin didn't smell clean. Rather, he didn't have a smell.

Belle shivered in the water.

She dried herself off with the bottom of her dress then spent some time tugging out the tangles in her curls. She grimaced as she slipped back into her dress, darkened in patches from the water.

Her stomach growled, and with a sigh, she abandoned her search for more books. Some scholar she was.

Several false turns later, she reentered the grand dining hall. "Do you want some supper?"

Rumplestiltskin was sitting before a spinning wheel, weaving out a long strand of woven straw. He did not turn to look at her, only waved a dismissive hand.

Belle grabbed some odds and ends from the kitchen and returned to the table to watch him. His eyes were distant and unfocused. It reminded her too much of how he had been after Iago had been at his back with the pliers.

She went to his side, placing a hand upon his shoulder. "What are you making?"

His dropped the straw as if stung, inhaling deeply as he turned to look at her. "Oh, Belle. Where have you been?"

She frowned. "Taking a bath."

"Yes, I can see that." He watched with fascination as he twisted a curl around his finger. "Would you like to go outside?"

Belle looked through the window at the falling snow. "Alright."

He sprang up from his stool and gave her a small push. "Best dress warmly, dearie. You could catch your death."

"I'm not the one who's cold-blooded."

"I'm not cold-blooded." He said it with as much indignation as if she had insulted his family line.

Belle spun to face him but continued to walk backwards to the door. "Yes, you are. You're cold to the touch." She spun back around and ran towards her bedroom, giggling.

"I'm well-insulated!" He called after her.

-X-

Belle still thought it was a mistake to wander about in the snow, fur lined cloaks or no. Rumplestiltskin slowed down considerably as soon as they'd stepped outside, but the set of his jaw told her that braving the cold was now a matter of principle.

He'd been right about the firewood, at any rate. The castle was surrounded on all sides by a stone wall many heads higher than herself, and the forest was a long way off beyond that. She never would have made it in all the snow.

Leaving Rumplestiltskin by the frozen pond, Belle meandered through the gardens. Every plant had frozen mid-bloom, so she found perfect roses with crystalline casing. She tried to pick one only to have it shatter in her hands.

A variety of frosty statues graced the pathway. A fawn, a maiden with a parasol, even an angel with frozen tears weeping down its face. Belle wondered if these too had adventurous stories like the treasures inside the house.

She was searching for animal tracks near the frozen sunflowers when she noticed that the snow was coming down harder now, and she hadn't seen Rumplestiltskin in a while. Tucking her numbed hands into her cloak, Belle headed around the side of the castle.

She found him where she had left him by the pond. He was staring up at the sky, his hands clenched into fists at his side.

Belle slid her palms around his fist. They were ice cold to the touch and barely moved when she pulled on his arm. "Rumplestiltskin, do you want to go inside now?"

She thought she saw him blink. "I cannot see the sky."

"I'm cold. Can we please go inside now?"

He gave no indication that he heard her, and Belle tugged on his arm with all of her strength. He nearly fell into her before he caught himself. At her insistence, he began to follow her, his movements stiff and slow.

By the time they were inside and down the hall, he was shivering violently. Belle slung his arm over her shoulder to keep him upright. "I'm not one to say 'I told you so,' but I did tell you. Are you the lord demon of all reptiles or something of the like?"

"I'm not a demon. I'm under a curse." He growled at her through chattering teeth.

Belle faltered as she processed this information. Then she noticed that his eyes were rolling back into his head, and she hurried him onwards. "Still, you are definitely meant for a warmer climate."

She managed to get him out of his clothes and into bed. She wrapped the blankets around his form and wondered if she could get some tea into him. The fire had blazed up upon their entrance, so she didn't think that he'd become hypothermic.

He caught her wrist when she tried to leave. "Stay with me tonight?"

Belle smiled at him, relief filling her chest. "Of course. Let me go grab my book. Oh, and tea?"

He shook his head, and Belle hurried to her room down the hall. She was too tired to do much reading, but it would be lovely to sleep in normal attire again.

A few minutes later, she slid into bed. Rumplestiltskin had rolled onto his side, facing the fire. She pressed her back to his, laying a book in front of her.

Propping her head up with her arm, Belle considered the latest information about her true love. Curses could be broken. Belle didn't know much about romantic love, but she knew all the stories about curses. Demonic powers or not, Rumplestiltskin must have been a man at one time. Her kiss should restore him to his original state, if they were truly meant to be.

He hadn't reacted well to their last kiss though. Then again, he had been in captivity and under a lot of stress.

Laying her head down on her arm, Belle smiled into the chill air. He could come home with her. For all its charms, this castle was dark and oppressive. Papa would be less than thrilled, but he would come to see reason. They would be happy.

Abandoning her book, Belle blew out the candle and rolled over to face Rumplestiltskin's back. She ran a hand over his shirt, feeling the scales there rise and fall with each breath. No one would ever control him again, she vowed. By evening the next day, that dagger would hold no power over him.


	11. Chapter 11

Rumplestiltskin woke early the following morning, feeling flushed with magic. It seemed that the recent neglect of his body was not affecting his other faculties. The urge to go after Jafar was overwhelming, but at the moment he had bigger fish to fry.

Leaving Belle to sleep, he stalked about his castle, vanishing and reappearing at will. It felt indescribably good, like stretching a muscle kept still for too long.

He spent some time hiding his dagger in clever places. He then set about fixing the breaks and cracks on his various treasures for the remainder of the morning. It was not until Belle gave him a uneasy look on her way to get breakfast that he realized he'd been giggling like mad the entire time.

He retreated to his tower to brood. All of his experiments were ruined through inattention, but that was the importance of outsourcing.

For a minute he considered popping in on Regina to check on her progress but soon dismissed the thought. There were easier ways. And he wouldn't have to deal with her smirking and wheedling. Nudging a rat out of the way, he settled on the floor with his back to the wall. Closing his eyes, he looked deep within himself, searching for that odd place where new magic grafted with old.

The future stretched out before him in the form of a twisting puzzle box. Rumplestiltskin ran his hands over it, watching it unravel and open for him. Shadows began to form out of the fog.

His own familiar shape appeared. Rumplestiltskin nearly fell out of the vision in shock. He had never before been able to see his own future.

He strained his eyes. His future self too was pressed up against something, scribbling on a piece of parchment. He narrowed his eyes as more of the scene became visible. Iron bars. He was lounging against a cage door.

Rumplestiltskin threw himself out of the vision, falling sideways onto the floor. Never. He would never go back to captivity. He would kill himself first.

The vision tugged at him again, and he slammed his eyes shut. He had to know what his future self was writing. The words appeared easily now. _Emma. _

A dense fog rolled over the image, the lurid purple of magic, and he knew instinctively that it was the curse. He opened his eyes to stare sightlessly ahead. The curse would catch him while he was in prison. How would that affect his fate on the other side?

Rage swelled within his chest, and he surged to his feet, looking for something to smash. It wasn't fair! He had been Jafar's plaything for years, and just when he had finally gotten free, hadn't even killed the foul man, now he was to return to another cage.

He hurled a bottle at the wall. And what about Belle? He had someone who again treated him with affection. Who teased him and didn't mind touching him.

He grimaced. He had all that before, hadn't he? He'd known two women who had touched him, who had even agreed to have children with him, for heaven's sake. They had both claimed to love him. It was foolish to believe that she would be any different.

He would have to do something about Belle. He didn't know how long he would have to stay in captivity before the curse hit, and at any rate, he wouldn't leave her alone in the Dark Castle. He would send her back to her father, as promised.

With a taste like ashes on his tongue, Rumplestiltskin left the ruins of his tower.

-X-

The castle felt too still, like a cat sighting its prey. Belle caught herself tiptoeing through the halls and had to grin at her own foolishness.

She was nervous about her plans for the castle's master. She had spent most of the morning in the library, reading every account she could find of true love. But when she had gone to find Rumplestiltskin, he had been bent over the two puppets, giggling in an eerie high pitched voice, and she had lost her nerve.

Two fortifying cups of tea later, she went looking for him with an urgency she couldn't explain.

She was striding through the dining room when he suddenly appeared in the door before her, making her jump back and squeak.

He ducked his head. "Belle, could you come with me for a moment?"

"Is something wrong?" He did not reply. She followed him out of the room and to the large doors that guarded the entrance.

Belle froze. On the flagstones before her sat two trunks with a two frozen roses from the garden sitting on top. "You're sending me away."

He spun to face her but would not meet her eyes. "We had a deal, dearie. I don't like to be in anyone's debt."

His hands fluttered nervously, and she caught them between her own. "Why don't we make a new deal?" she asked, feeling as if he would flee at any moment. "Come with me."

He pulled his hands from her grasp. "I can't."

"Why not?" When he still didn't answer, she stepped closer to him and placed her hands on his shoulders, remembering then how he had caught her when she fell. "Tell me, please."

"I'm going to put myself in prison."

Belle's hands dropped. "But you're free now! No one should ever control you again!"

"You wouldn't understand," he snarled at her. "I have plans that are centuries in the making, and I won't abandon them for one silly girl."

Belle fought back tears. "I was right before, wasn't I? You never wanted to be free. You're too scared of what it might mean."

She saw rage contort his features before he drew himself up and sneered down at her. "You stupid girl. This is not a book. I'm not a character that you can fit into a neat little box. You will never know who I am."

And in that moment Belle knew she had lost. Because he was right. She had been thought of the world like she did her novels. She had thought of him as an inevitability in her life.

But there was one fact that her shame and sorrow could not shake. She raised her chin and her voice did not waver: "I will always love you."

He stared at her, and for once, she could not read the expression in his eyes. Then he snapped his fingers, and the world vanished.

-X-

"Oh, good god!"

Belle struggled to open her eyes, trying to find the source of the cry. The voice sounded so familiar.

"Belle!" Hands grabbed her shoulders and shook her, and she moaned at the unwanted sensation.

She managed to force her eyes open. She was lying on her back, and her father's face loomed into her vision. "Father?"

"Belle!" he repeated, pulling her with limited success to her feet. "We thought you were dead! No one could find you."

"I'm not dead," Belle murmured. Her knees started to buckle, and Maurice pulled her into an embrace.

"I am so glad you're back. I am never letting you out of my sight again."

Belle nodded, struggling not to faint. Over his shoulder, she saw the two trunks by the bed. The roses remained frozen in bloom.

Burying her face in her father's shoulder, Belle began to sob.

-X-

Rumplestiltskin pressed himself against the bars of his new cage and scribbled furiously on the small piece of parchment. _Emma. Emma. Emma. EMMA. _Best to make it bone-crushingly obvious since the girl would be stupid enough to get herself trapped.

A manic giggle escaped his lips. What did that make him?

It had been physically painful to sign that blasted agreement. To lose his magic and his free will in the most transparent trap imaginable. He had blustered around the squeaking and trembling Cinderella for the better part of fifteen minutes, working up the nerve and savoring his last few moments of freedom. The only thing keeping him sane was the knowledge that it was his choice to be there.

It didn't feel like much of a choice though.

He was not being fed much either. After he had wheedled the name of their daughter out of them, Snow and her hubby hadn't cared much about his well fare. Well, he was used to it by now. But all of the hard work Belle had gone through to put some weight on him was for naught.

He held the image of Belle in his mind for a moment. Not as he had last seen her, but in earlier times, when she had smiled at him and how she had looked when she slept.

The knowledge that he would never touch her again made him want to curl in on himself. He was under no illusions that she would forgive him in this world, and now there was no hope that she might come back to him in the next.

He had realized in the moments after he had sent her away, shaking from frustration and the tightness in his chest, that he still owed her. She had saved his life, cared for him at the cost of her own comfort, and he had never repaid her.

The price had presented itself, as always. When Regina had stormed into his prison, furious that the curse wasn't working for her, Rumplestiltskin had realized that he had a choice. His memories or Belle's. For once, he had a choice that was easy to make.

Once he had sent Regina off to kill her father, the itchy feeling of an unpaid debt had vanished, replaced with an anxious quivering. Where would he end up on the other side?

Hours or weeks later, he felt a surge of power and knew the curse was coming. Rumplestiltskin squeezed his eyes shut. Oh Belle, he thought. Please come find me.

**And that's it for Part I. Please stay tuned for Part II: Love and Obey. **


End file.
